#Oscar was pushy but

[aaron04jpg]

LFG

[inchidentally]

https://www.tumblr.com/landoom/750752502494953472/they-touched-victorian-courting-vibes-its-been?source=share ooh?

a year and a half on and I do not know what the hell to do with their thing about touch ???

bc it's actually smth that developed alongside them not posting each other on their sm as much which bizarrely coincided w them getting more comfortable together and clearly getting closer ?? at the very start Lando was always slinging an arm around Oscar's shoulders bc he was still trying to play 'older veteran driver' until he finally realized he didn't like that role and that Oscar sees Lando as small and full of mischief and cute. same w him posting Oscar a lot at first and Oscar replying and it seeming for a long time like Daniel-era Lando and Prema-era Oscar would be the fun duo we'd be getting out of them.

but then that started changing as they spent more time together and the Silverstone fan stage/Austin filming Temporal Shifts happened and they became what they are now. so they got closer as friends/teammates, developed an easy and unique dynamic all their own and that cute little "crush" on each other. but it's coincided w them becoming more private when not doing McLaren content and us only finding out that they'd spent down time together after the fact.

and then this funny little distance happened at the same time where they gravitate toward being physically close and Lando wriggles and pushes into Oscar's space where it looks calm and nice and warm. the most blokey physical interaction they've ever had was during the goggles challenge when they tackled over the football at the end for like 2 seconds. but they're physically incapable of being 'rough' or blokey w each other otherwise when they're both totally fine with it with other guys! Lando loves having male friends treat him like a chew toy and Oscar may not be quite as physical but he'll smack someone if they're being too stupid to live and he'll nap right next to anyone who happens to have claimed a nap spot nearby and other guys have no problem knocking him around. but even the sarcasm they'd both always use with other men softened up towards each other and it's more domestic chiding than being-mean-for-jokes.

like if it was similar to a Kmag and Nico or Zhou and Val situation where they're friendly enough but it's a purely work thing then they'd act like either of them. same w George and Lewis tbh. they've all got the Man Code of jokes and back slaps and maybe a half bro hug.

but instead Lando and Oscar watch each other closely when the other isn't looking and have these gentle little private smiles and do the slightly creepy mind-reading thing that even weirds Andrea out a bit and they get drawn together physically in a very natural, comfortable 'us against them' way.

but oh !! it's So Much to put their hands on each other or push their bodies together !! even when they do a handshake it lasts so long !!

[mtonette]

thinking about that last post. im gonna blow up the building now

[moonlightwritingf1]

Until you noticed me | OP81

🎀 summary ━━━━━━━ At a rooftop party, Y/N and Oscar’s friendship takes a turn when Oscar’s protective instincts reveal his deeper feelings.

🎀 pairing ━━━━━━━ Oscar Piastri x she!reader

🎀 word count ━━━━━━━ 2.8k

Y/N had always admired Oscar Piastri from a distance. They met through mutual friends less than a year ago, and since then, their paths seemed to cross more often than either of them anticipated. Whether it was casual hangouts, race weekends, or the odd late-night group chat, their friendship had grown naturally, albeit with an undertone of something neither dared to acknowledge.

Oscar was calm and collected—a sharp contrast to her more adventurous, carefree personality. While she saw him as her ever-reliable friend, Oscar saw her as so much more. He’d never admit it outright, but he found himself constantly drawn to her, whether it was to keep her safe or simply to bask in her radiant energy.

That night, they were at a rooftop party in London, celebrating the end of the racing season. The evening was cool but pleasant, and Y/N was mingling effortlessly, as she always did. Oscar, meanwhile, kept to the edges of the crowd, watching her with a quiet intensity.

She looked stunning, her laughter carrying over the music and conversation. But what caught Oscar’s attention wasn’t just how beautiful she looked—it was the way she seemed completely unaware of how many eyes followed her around the room. It was something he admired and found infuriating all at once.

He didn’t notice the man until he was already standing too close to Y/N. At first, Oscar told himself to stay out of it. She could handle herself; she always did. But then the guy leaned in, his body language too pushy, and Y/N’s smile faltered just slightly.

Oscar didn’t think. He just acted.

He crossed the room quickly, his presence quiet but commanding. “Y/N,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “been looking for you.”

She turned, relief flashing across her face. “Oscar!”

Without hesitation, he slipped his arm around her waist, his hand resting protectively against her side. “Mind if I steal her for a moment?” he asked the man, though his tone made it clear he wasn’t actually asking.

The man hesitated, his confidence wavering under Oscar’s steady gaze. “Sure, mate. No problem.”

As the guy walked away, Y/N looked up at Oscar, her lips curving into a small smile. “What’s this? My knight in shining armor?”

“Just making sure you’re okay,” he said, his hand lingering on her waist a second longer before he forced himself to let go.

She rolled her eyes playfully, though her heart fluttered at the intensity in his gaze. “I was fine, you know.”

“Maybe,” he replied, his tone light but his eyes serious. “But I wasn’t going to risk it.”

The party carried on, but Y/N found herself gravitating toward Oscar more than usual. They ended up sitting together on a quieter section of the rooftop, away from the music and crowd.

“You’re always looking out for me,” she said, sipping her drink and glancing at him over the rim of her glass.

“Someone has to,” he replied with a small smirk.

“I’m not that reckless,” she protested.

“Y/N,” he said, raising an eyebrow, “you climbed onto a railing at the last party just to ‘see the view better.’”

She laughed, nudging his arm. “Okay, fair. But you didn’t have to pull me down like I was going to fall to my death.”

“Didn’t I, though?” he teased, but his smile softened. “You’re important to me, Y/N. I’d rather be overprotective than regret not stepping in.”

Her laughter faded, and she studied him for a moment. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Her cheeks warmed at his words, but she quickly brushed it off. “Well, I guess I’m lucky to have you, huh?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes locking with hers. “Lucky.”

For a moment, the air between them shifted, the buzz of the party fading into the background. Y/N felt her pulse quicken under his gaze, but she quickly looked away, laughing nervously.

“Don’t look at me like that,” she said, half-joking.

“Like what?” he asked, though his voice was lower now.

“Like... I don’t know. Like that.”

Oscar tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Maybe you’re just imagining things.“

“Maybe,” she muttered, though her cheeks burned.

When the party ended, Oscar offered to drive her home, and she accepted without hesitation. The car ride was quiet at first, the city lights casting shadows across their faces as they drove.

“Thanks for tonight,” she said softly, breaking the silence.

“Anytime,” he replied, glancing at her briefly before turning back to the road.

She hesitated, then added, “You know, you didn’t have to step in earlier. But... I’m glad you did.”

He smirked, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. “You said that already. What’s really on your mind?”

She bit her lip, debating whether to say what she was thinking. Finally, she turned to him. “You care about me a lot, don’t you?”

Oscar’s heart skipped a beat, but he kept his expression neutral. “Is that a trick question?”

“No, I’m serious,” she said, her voice softer now.

He sighed, pulling over to the side of the road. The car idled as he turned to face her. “Yeah, I do. Probably more than I should.”

Her breath hitched at his confession, her eyes searching his. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, “you’re my friend. And I didn’t want to risk losing you.”

Her heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice. She reached out, her fingers brushing against his hand. “Oscar...”

He shook his head, a small, self-deprecating smile on his lips. “It’s fine, Y/N. I’ve gotten pretty good at pretending.”

But before he could pull away, she leaned across the console, her lips pressing softly against his. It was tentative at first, but when he responded, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, it deepened into something more.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“You don’t have to pretend anymore,” she whispered, a small smile on her lips.

Oscar chuckled softly, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Good. Because I don’t think I can.”

The drive resumed, but everything felt different now. The unspoken tension between them was finally gone, replaced by something much stronger. Neither of them knew what the future held, but for now, they were exactly where they wanted to be: with each other.

The air in the car was charged now, thick with emotions neither of them had fully voiced until this moment. Oscar’s hand rested on the gear shift, but his focus was entirely on Y/N, her lips slightly swollen from their kiss, her eyes wide as she looked at him.

He cleared his throat, his voice low and steady. “Are you sure about this? About me?”

Y/N tilted her head, studying him. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?”

“Question yourself,” she said softly, reaching over to rest her hand on his forearm. “Oscar, you’re one of the best people I know. You don’t have to doubt how I feel about you.”

He blinked, her words hitting him like a jolt. “It’s just... I’ve thought about this so many times,” he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. “But I always convinced myself it was impossible. That I’d ruin everything if I said how I felt.”

“You’re not ruining anything,” she said firmly, her fingers squeezing his arm. “If anything, I’m the one who’s been blind to what’s right in front of me.”

Oscar let out a small, shaky laugh, his hand moving to cover hers. “So... where does that leave us?”

She smiled, leaning back slightly, but her gaze remained locked on his. “That depends. Are you planning to keep pretending this didn’t happen, or are you ready to actually do something about it?”

The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk, his confidence growing. “You’re really not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

“Why should I?” she teased, though her tone was warm.

When they arrived at her apartment, neither of them made a move to get out of the car right away. The street was quiet, the only sounds coming from the faint hum of the engine and the occasional distant car passing by.

Oscar turned to her, his expression serious but tender. “Can I come up? Just to talk, I mean,” he added quickly, though the intensity in his gaze suggested there was more to his request.

Y/N smiled softly. “You don’t have to overthink it, Oscar. Come on.”

Inside her apartment, the atmosphere shifted again. The cozy warmth of her living room contrasted with the tension still lingering between them. Y/N kicked off her shoes and tossed her bag onto the couch, turning to find Oscar standing near the doorway, his hands in his pockets, looking almost shy.

“You can sit, you know,” she said, her voice light.

He smiled, stepping further inside and sitting on the couch, his eyes following her as she moved around the room. She grabbed two glasses of water from the kitchen and handed him one, sitting beside him on the couch.

For a moment, they just sat there, the silence filled with unspoken thoughts. Finally, Oscar set his glass down, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “I meant what I said earlier. About how much you mean to me.”

“I know,” she said softly, her hand reaching out to rest on his shoulder. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to see it. To see you.”

He turned to face her, his eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t know.”

“But I should have,” she said, her voice tinged with regret. “You’ve been there for me through everything, Oscar. And now that I think about it, you’ve always been more than just a friend to me. I was just too scared to admit it, even to myself.”

He reached out, his hand cupping her cheek gently. “You don’t have to be scared anymore.”

She leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When she opened them, he was still watching her, his gaze filled with a mix of love and desire that made her heart race.

“Oscar,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah?” he murmured, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone.

“Kiss me again,” she said, her voice steady now.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Leaning in, his lips captured hers in a kiss that was deeper and more passionate than the one in the car. This time, there was no hesitation, no second-guessing. His hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer as her fingers tangled in his hair.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting together.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, his voice husky.

“Me too,” she confessed, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on the back of his neck.

Oscar chuckled softly, his hands tightening slightly on her waist. “So, what now?”

She grinned, her eyes sparkling. “I think we take it one step at a time. But I’m not letting you go, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Good,” he said, his tone serious. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The night stretched on, the two of them talking, laughing, and sharing moments that had been building for months. As they curled up together on the couch, the weight of unspoken feelings finally lifted, both of them knowing they’d found something worth holding onto.

The soft glow of the living room lamps cast warm shadows on their faces as Oscar and Y/N stayed wrapped in each other's presence. The tension from earlier had dissolved into something more intimate—a quiet understanding that they were finally on the same page.

Y/N’s head rested against Oscar’s shoulder, her fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest as they lay sprawled across the couch. The television played in the background, but neither of them paid it much attention.

“You know,” Y/N started, her voice playful but soft, “I always wondered why you’d get so worked up every time I did something remotely reckless. I just thought you were overly cautious.”

Oscar smirked, his fingers brushing through her hair. “You think climbing rooftops and arguing with strangers is remotely reckless?”

She laughed, the sound vibrating against his chest. “Okay, maybe a little more than remotely. But now it all makes sense. You’ve been secretly in love with me this whole time.”

His smirk turned into a sheepish grin. “It wasn’t exactly a secret, Y/N.”

She tilted her head to look at him, her brows furrowing in mock disbelief. “What do you mean?”

“Everyone knew,” he admitted, his voice tinged with amusement. “Lando teased me about it constantly. Even your friends dropped hints.“

Her eyes widened in shock. “Wait—what? My friends knew?”

Oscar chuckled, his hand sliding down to rest on her waist. “Apparently, I’m not as subtle as I thought.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Oh my god, I’m the clueless one in this scenario, aren’t I?”

“You said it, not me,” Oscar teased, gently pulling her hands away from her face. “But I didn’t mind. I figured you’d notice eventually.”

She sighed, her cheeks still warm from embarrassment. “Well, you’re a lot more patient than I would’ve been.”

Oscar’s expression softened, his fingers brushing lightly against her cheek. “You were worth the wait, though.”

Her breath hitched at the sincerity in his voice, her heart swelling as she looked into his eyes. She leaned up to kiss him again, this one slower and more deliberate, her hands cradling his face.

As the kiss deepened, Oscar’s hands slid to her waist, pulling her closer until she was straddling him. The shift in position sent a shiver down her spine, the closeness between them sparking something electric.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low and filled with desire.

“Maybe I like the heat,” she whispered back, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.

Oscar groaned softly, his grip on her tightening. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are,” she quipped, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw.

His hands slid up her back, his touch firm but careful. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“Why don’t you show me?” she challenged, her tone bold but breathless.

Oscar’s eyes darkened, his restraint teetering as he captured her lips again, this time with more urgency. His hands roamed, exploring the curve of her hips and the small of her back. She melted into him, her own hands tangling in his hair as their kisses grew more heated.

Somehow, they found themselves in her bedroom, their breaths ragged as they tumbled onto the bed. Oscar hovered over her, his gaze searching hers for any hesitation.

“Tell me to stop if this is too much,” he said, his voice soft but firm.

She cupped his face, her eyes locking with his. “I don’t want you to stop. I’ve wanted this for so long, Oscar.”

That was all the reassurance he needed. He kissed her deeply, his hands exploring her body with a mix of passion and reverence. Every touch, every kiss, was unhurried, as if he was savoring every second of this moment they’d both been waiting for.

Y/N arched into him, her fingers trailing over the muscles of his back. “You’re driving me crazy,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion and desire.

“Good,” he murmured, a smirk playing on his lips as he kissed down the column of her neck.

The night unfolded with a tenderness that spoke of more than just physical connection. It was about the months of unspoken feelings, the silent yearning that had built up between them. Every touch, every word, was a culmination of everything they’d held back for so long.

Later, as they lay tangled together under the covers, Y/N rested her head on Oscar’s chest, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his skin.

“You know this changes everything, right?” she murmured.

Oscar tightened his arms around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “It doesn’t have to change anything we don’t want it to. Except now, I get to kiss you whenever I want.”

She smiled, tilting her head to look up at him. “Is that so?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said, leaning down to steal another kiss.

Y/N sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to him. “I can live with that.”

Oscar chuckled, his voice warm and full of affection. “Good. Because I’m not letting you go, Y/N. Not now, not ever.”

As the night stretched into early morning, the two of them drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, they’d face them together. For the first time, everything felt exactly as it should.

[jennarations]

Did a 20 minute drabble sprint with my speedy gentlemen buds and came out with this!

Prompt: “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

I chose to do some Landoscar fluff :)

Under the cut!

It starts out quiet.

Like Lando isn’t even sure anything is even different. It’s casual. It’s normal.

But something has shifted in the way Oscar Piastri looks at him. And Lando doesn't know how to deal with it other than internal flailing and alarms screeching in his head.

“Here,” Oscar offers with a small nod, handing Lando his forgotten water bottle he had left abandoned in the hospitality an hour earlier.

Lando takes it from Oscar’s outstretched hand and feels their fingers brush just the tiniest bit from the pass. Lando shivers. He hopes it was internal shivering that is imperceptible to others, imperceptible to Oscar.

“Thanks.” Lando says mutely. And then Oscar does the damndest thing.

He winks at him.

Lando melts into a puddle. What is wrong with him?

—

Lando really should have the couch of his driver’s room facing the door and not facing away from the door. It was a tragic mistake in strategy on his part.

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise when he feels warm breath ghost over the back of his neck and a soft thud against the back of the couch.

He drops his phone. The traitorous device snaps into his chest and bounces onto the floor.

“Hey.” Oscar breathes down the back of his neck.

Lando makes a slightly mangled noise in response and scrambles to the floor to look for his phone. Nevermind it being a traitorous device, it’s now his savior to get Oscar’s breath away from his neck before he does something stupid like turn around and pull his face to Lando’s.

Lando finally grabs his phone and looks up at Oscar, who is now leaning over the top of the couch and tilting his head in a way Lando would die before he admits he finds cute. He’s smiling and waiting for Lando to get himself together.

It strikes Lando then. Oscar’s always waiting for him. Never pushy. Never impatient. Just. Waiting. Like he’s got all the time in the world for him.

He clears his throat. “Is it a habit of yours to frighten men in their own driver’s rooms?”

Oscar laughs, quiet and jerky, like he’s trying to bend over the front of the couch. He shakes his head. “Nah, just thought you’d appreciate these.”

At that, Oscar reveals a bag of stroopwafels he had been hiding behind the couch.

Lando gasps and climbs back up the couch to Oscar’s space.

“You dog. You did not get me stroopwafels.” Lando says in disbelief, trying to paw them out of Oscar’s grasp.

He hands them over with no issue, and Lando notices Oscar’s fingers linger just the slightest bit over Lando’s.

“Hopefully they make up for scaring the living daylights out of you?”

Lando nods his head hastily and starts tearing the package open before someone can come take them from him. Before Jon can take them from him.

“How did you get these past security?” Lando says with awe while offering Oscar a warm stroopwafel.

Oscar takes it and pops a corner of it into his mouth.

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you.”

And Lando feels like the air has been sucked out of the room at the absolute sincerity in Oscar’s tone.

And then Lando finally looks up at Oscar, really looks at him. And he finds something unwavering in his eyes.

“Oh.” Lando gets out quietly.

“Yeah.” Oscar agrees, nodding his head a bit and then scratching the back of his neck.

“Would you get me chicken nuggets too?”

A laugh punches out of Oscar at that. And Lando appreciates the warmth that spreads through his chest at seeing Oscar like this. There’s something there. Lando just has to figure out what it is.

What Lando would find out later, is that Oscar already knew what it was. He would just wait a while longer for Lando to catch on.

—

[loveanddeepspice]

𝕋𝕖𝕞𝕡𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕔𝕖

✞ synopsis:  you've come back to the small town you grew up in for a visit. though your relationship with the catholic church and faith in general have been strained since you were younger, you find yourself drawn back to the church... or more specifically... the new priest... you aren't ready to share your secret sin with him... but you may not be able to help yourself.

✞ pairing: sylus x curvy fem!reader

✞ rating:  18+ (minors do not engage)

✞ cw:  religion (catholicism), priest, lapsed faith, adultery, priest kink, suicidal mention, dead parent, sex, masturbation, drugs (marijuana), mentions of other drug use, drinking (more will be added when/if they arise)

✞ disclaimer: this fiction explores a romantic relationship between a lapsed Catholic and an unconventional priest. it is not designed to be inflammatory or critical. catholic authors were asked to participate in the process. we hope you enjoy it, but we know that these topics can be sensitive, so please skip this fiction if it will in any way offend you.

✞ chapter:  6 / ?

✞ co-authors:  redbriony, confuseddoughnut (they do not have tumblr)

✞ ao3 link:  here

✞ chapter synopsis: "the only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it." - oscar wilde

✞ index: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5| chapter 6

Please comment on this post if you want to be added to the tag list for updates!

Despite what happened, you would have done anything to face Father Sylus again. 

He was the type of person who radiated energy from within, dedication unlike anyone you had ever met - which could be a good or a bad thing. The thoughts became an obsession, all that seemed to fill your brain. The recollection of his touch made you sweat. It was the last thing you thought about before drifting off to sleep, the first thing you thought about when you woke, and the next few days stretched.  One thing was sure: you longed to see him again, if only for the courage to apologize.  But did you even have to apologize? He was the one who had kissed you first, right?  It was so unbelievably confusing. You’d talk yourself through circles; for once, no amount of sleeping seemed to help.  You weren’t even given the option to sleep it all off anyway or mellow properly in your self-pity. Upon learning of your ‘arrest’ from Talia, your father forced you out of the house that Sunday to go to church with him.  “What’s going on with you, Y/N?” Dad raised his eyebrows and frowned as he gripped the steering wheel, and you could tell he was trying hard not to get angry or frustrated. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, hon. You came back, and you’re acting weird.  Can you just tell me what’s wrong?”  Shaking your head, you shrugged, trying your hardest to maintain eye contact on the door handle, ignoring your dad’s question and wishing he’d just leave you alone.  “You went from being happy to totally distraught since you moved out. What am I supposed to think here, huh?”  ‘Maybe everything went to total fucking shit,’ was what you wanted to say, and tried not to roll your eyes. Dad tried so hard to not act like the authoritarian or pushy father, especially after your mother had died. He was never like that. And it was because of that you figured it was time to be at least a little truthful.  “I quit my job. I don’t know what I’m going to do from here, but -” you said, “I just…needed some time to think things through.”  Your dad parked the car and turned to offer you a subtle smile. You were convincing enough, obviously. “Okay, fine. Work in the store until you figure it out. It’ll be like old times.” One hand gripped the steering wheel as he looked at you, almost seeming to peer into your brain as his eyes flicked ever so slightly. “So, uh, is this about your mom? I didn’t know you were still upset about that. I should’ve tried to talk to you more.”  You bit down your reply, feeling a bitter taste in the back of your throat, and willing it away.  “No, it isn’t. Just forget about it.”  A long sigh filled the small space as your father pressed his lips together. “Christ, I can’t be mad at you right now. I’ve always let you do what you want.”  This was strange, a particular ache settling inside and spreading to your limbs like an infection. Maybe it wouldn’t stop now that it had started. And the first instinct was to get away and run. Run and run and just get away.  “Hon, Y/N,” Your Dad’s voice was pleading, and you nearly missed it. “We can go talk to -”  “No!” You blurted, immediately regretting it, mortified at just the thought. How did you speak so fast? “No, it’s fine. Let’s just go inside. We’re gonna be late.”

You didn’t feel any better inside the church, but you weren’t expecting much to begin with. All you could do was suck it up and seat yourself beside your dad. It wasn’t crowded, but there were a few unfamiliar faces, so maybe not everyone would notice your fucked up mood. 

Everything felt surreal. You were sitting there in church with the sun streaming through the stained glass windows, and your gaze landed on the one depicting the Virgin Mary.

The word ethereal came to mind. 

Everything seemed like it would evaporate into thin air. Like if you moved too quickly, you’d wake up from one of those dreams that just turned out to be inside of another dream. 

And when a hush fell over the congregation, you had no choice but to look forward. No matter how your brain fizzes or your fingers tingle. You were forced to look at that handsome face in front of the church and feel the emotion well inside you. Something that felt different than embarrassment or frustration. 

Even from this distance, Father Sylus exudes that particular aura, daring to fill the whole church with its strength. You are once again reminded of how inescapable his presence is—not through belief or goodness, but something, someone who felt unearthly, even celestial, as absurd as it felt. 

Ethereal. Once again, with that pretty word. How could you even begin to explain it? It was so easy to feel some sort of bitterness, perhaps even selfishness. Who could blame you? Everything always seemed too simple when you looked at it from a distance. 

“Good morning,” He began, his voice taking on that strangely powerful, lilting cadence. He paused, hands clasping, and his posture was different. Shoulders broad, spine straight, chin lifted slightly. “I want to take a moment before we begin to discuss why we’re here.” 

You were drawn to his words, which had formed an invisible link to you. Maybe if you closed your eyes like you did at night, you could picture that night in the car. It felt foolish because you were certain your own thoughts were desperate. How stupid did it make you seem, trying to replay the sensation? A stupid crush. That is all you wanted it to amount to, even if looking into his fiery gaze had made you feel like you were melting.

“We’re here, in the house of the Lord. Why is this?” 

If a month’s insistence on chasing after a flame could be compared to anything -

 “Free will.” His tone picked up. “Through our actions, we make conscious decisions. As far as humankind is concerned, free will also makes us human.” 

Your breathing stilled. Something terrible seized your gut, a cramping feeling causing you to grit your teeth. 

“This is a sanctified place,” he continued, voice rich and filled with energy. “Within these walls, you should experience peace. Not conflict or anger. All are free here because it is with our actions that we build ourselves.”

How the hell did he manage this? The words continued spilling from his mouth, something pulling you further. And after a pause, his gaze filtered over the room again - and landed on you. 

Time was beginning to stand still, and you swore your face began to heat up. But, thankfully, the look didn’t linger on you, moving on as he cleared his throat. 

Well, fuck. 

There was only a tiny shift in expression, and perhaps you were the only one to notice how his pause seemed more lengthy than those before it. 

"We - uh.” Father Sylus made a show of glancing down at the notes before him and shuffling a few pages. “Sorry.” He cleared his throat again, a little louder this time. “What I mean to say is, with free will, we struggle against our urges and temptations. Sin beckons - uh,” another loud cough. He looked nervous. Vulnerable. In more ways than one. 

Father Sylus hastily pushed aside the pages, shoulders lifting in a deep breath before looking again at the people gathered. He straightened a little, and his powerful tone returned as he folded his hands neatly. “So, how do we resist? It can be hard to…admit one’s faults.” He let out a little huff of air, glancing down again. Then, he stepped away from the podium, stepping along the carpeted dais, hands clasped behind his back and thumbs tapping against each other. 

The congregation started shifting. A glance here and there, unable to guess what he would say next. Probably wondering why their priest was acting so…off. If you weren’t glued to your seat in, well, any number of the emotions you were feeling now - you would have high-tailed it out of there already. But instead, you were frozen in place, feeling like an outsider, feeling the shift in the air more than the others around you. 

“Take those feelings and multiply them by ten.” He stated, looking towards the back of the church at nothing in particular. It was as if he was somewhere only his mind knew. 

“Opportunity is often just an invitation to sin, yes. Free will is a man’s greatest power but also his biggest weakness. With that power comes responsibility. Satan doesn’t come dressed in a red cape and pointy horns in the middle of the night.” 

Oh God.

 There was a tense pause and stillness, and you wonder how you managed to sit here and listen. Those crimson eyes trailed around the room, but for another second, a brief and terrifying second, they burned into you.

“Satan comes as everything you’ve ever wished for.” He laughed, bitter and slightly hoarse. Then his eyes snapped forward again, unabashed. 

He coughed, cleared his throat again, and gestured with a finger above his head. “We all - well, we all think we can overcome any challenge. Big or small. Big and small.” Father Sylus let out a shaky exhale. “Um, the point is...The point is that the devil is ready to collect when you can’t. So, the point is that - uh,” His tone shifted to something smaller that made your insides tremble agonizingly. A breathless, tight sort of anxiousness that stole through your lungs and caused your heart rate to increase. It was impossible to deny that despite the words coming out of his mouth, you actually wanted to hear him continue. “Um, sometimes I think the hardest thing is that we are human, and we are weak.” 

Before he could even continue, his voice cracked. “I’m sorry.” He swallowed, grimacing, an anguish that you recognized. “Excuse me.” He looked like he might break, the wavering tension almost stifling the room, his expression almost tormented. 

“I’m sorry. Excuse me.” And with that, he disappeared into the back, leaving everyone shocked. 

Everyone except for you. 

“And that’s why I’m never going to church again.” You rolled your eyes as you leaned against one of the shelves in your dad’s store, looking over at Rafayel, who was leaning against the counter, making it his personal mission to get every last drop out of an iced coffee. “You should have seen the look on his face. What a fuck up.” 

Rafayel wrinkled his nose, looked around the otherwise empty store, and then glanced at his phone. “Yikes. Poor guy.” He sighed and tapped his foot on the floor. “Talia came home and said he had a migraine - but it’s even more hilarious that a near-public breakdown was because of you.” 

“My God, you are awful.” You frowned and stepped forward to lightly punch his arm, reaching out and catching his elbow with a grimace as he pretended to almost fall over. “That’s a horrible thing to say! You were the one who was practically encouraging me!” 

“I would never,” Rafayel huffed, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “Anyway, it’s been almost a week now. You’re gonna have to suck it up and face him sooner or later.” With a firm nod, he shook off your hold and dusted his hand on the faded denim of his jeans, turning his attention back to his phone and shaking the ice in the cup he held. 

“How would I do that?” You asked. 

As if oblivious, Rafayel arched a brow and smiled tightly, peering at you over the edge of his phone. His tone was less-than-reassuring, sounding almost pitying. “No fucking idea.” 

You opened your mouth to argue but thought better of it as the shop door opened, just in time for the chilly afternoon to bring in your dad and Xavier. You took a deep breath at the sound of the bell and forced yourself to calm down.

As if on cue, Rafayel pushed himself away from the counter and looked in your direction. “Well, Y/N.” He said, tossing a wink in your direction that made you want to reach out and knock the silly grin off his face. “Good luck.” With that, he turned and walked out of the store with a shake of his head. 

Your dad mumbled something under his breath before tossing a wave a little too late and heading into the back of the small building. 

Unease had settled in your stomach at your friend's departure. You felt as if you had more to say, ask, or get a general idea of as you stared at the shop's door. You ran a hand over your tired face and sighed. 

“Hi,” Xavier gave you a careful, controlled smile as you turned toward his voice. “Need help with anything?” 

You tried your best not to fidget or bite your lip. “No, but it’s nice of you to offer.” You shrugged and glanced away briefly. “Why? Got nothing else to do?” 

“Uh, I work here?” He blinked as he stepped forward. You could take in his softening facial features now that he was closer. His smile didn’t quite fade as he looked around the quiet shop. “Anyway - I um. I tried to call you last night? About dinner?” 

Tilting your head in confusion, you froze. Then, you processed the sentence. 

Dinner. Shit. 

“Oh! My phone went missing. I’m sure it’ll turn up soon or something. Wasn’t the nicest phone anyways,” you brushed some hair behind your ear. “I still can’t figure out how it disappeared!” You forced a laugh at your lie and shifted uncomfortably.

You’d completely forgotten about agreeing to go out with him. How fucking stupid were you? So caught up in the idea of -

“Well, uh, I didn’t plan much. So it’s okay, we can just do something another night. Right?” Xavier suggested, and you couldn’t tell if he had let it go so quickly or was suspicious about your behavior. 

Either way, you smiled, rationalizing with yourself for what felt like the millionth time that spending time with him would be a good thing. Any way to keep your mind distracted. Clearly, he still wanted to go out with you, and you certainly wouldn’t say no. After all, who could blame you for latching on anyone who showed the slightest interest? 

This would be a step in the right direction, right? Things would get better. They had to. No matter how weird it felt for you to think so. 

“That’s fine. Sorry, my head’s all over the place.” 

The worst part of it all was the sudden weight in your stomach, the ache in your chest that was becoming all too tiring. Something pushed you in the complete opposite direction of the young man in front of you, towards what you really wanted, and had no explanation for why you did. 

“Y/N?” Xavier spoke again and stepped closer, watching your expression with careful scrutiny, his hand reaching out to touch yours, giving you a new feeling of unease. “Hey, um, - you alright?” 

Your heart wrenched a little at the worry, and you wondered exactly how pathetic you appeared. “I think so. Can you take over? I gotta step out for a while.”

It grew colder as you walked along the sidewalk, sticking your hands inside your jacket pockets. Clouds gathered in the distance, inching their way towards the suburb. The air smelled fresher, as if it might snow lightly sometime at night. A breeze swept over the street, stirring pieces of your hair from its confines, and you briefly thought you should have remembered your scarf. 

Then, you came to a stop in front of the church. 

You looked down at your outfit, the jeans and the oversized blue sweater you had found in your mom's closet, when you couldn’t be bothered to do your own laundry. Perhaps she would give you strength, or at least enough willpower from wherever she was to give you the courage to turn right the fuck around and go back home.  She was always straightforward in that way, even without the drinking. If only you had taken after her in that aspect. 

For a moment, you almost turned to leave, giving yourself the opportunity to simply walk away and go home. However, after a few seconds of mental debate, you stepped along the worn walkway and up the steps, slipping your hand out of your pocket to place it on the worn wooden door. 

Somewhere in your mind was a glimmer of hope, the possibility of resolve.

Now that you had gathered whatever courage you had left, you took one last, bracing breath before pushing the door open. A jolt of energy speared up your arms, a buzzing sensation against your fingertips. Once you were inside, everything felt eerily silent. Almost too silent. But as the familiar warmth enveloped you, your body relaxed slightly as you shrugged off your jacket. 

The last light from the day was casting through the windows, and the interior was a muted, golden glow and soft orange. It felt warm in more ways than one. Despite the hushed nature of the building, energy thrummed within you. The atmosphere was inviting, but for some reason, you couldn’t quite muster the ability to step forward any further, feet stuck to the floor beneath you. It was ironic, yet in a way, expected; you felt like crying or throwing something, but maybe punching Father Sylus would give you the most satisfaction. 

The chapel seemed alien to you as you made your way further inside. 

Loneliness was all-consuming, a fear ever present and threatening in the back of your mind. You wondered why it hurt so much. And, you considered whether you have ever experienced a real connection in your life. You zeroed in on the cross beyond the rows of pews as if you could use it for answers. It glinted a little in the evening light that filtered through the stained glass. Your eyes felt dry as they fixed upon the illuminated wood, searching, listening, walking towards the front of the church like a mouse. 

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” You asked your question out loud. The silence of the building taunted you in return, and something constricted within your chest. The rush of it all was consuming, filling your every thought with hope and expectation. A breath sucked in, and you shook your head, blinking. Everything felt off, and you had no idea what your body was supposed to do with itself. “This is so fucked. You know, this is all���just so messed up,” you choked out the whisper and, with a small gasp, swallowed. The emotions swelled. Heavy and pounding and suddenly overwhelming. 

Who gave a shit? Nothing would change. 

But, maybe - 

Would God be willing? Could He lift the spell put on you that would continue to grow? 

“Mom is dead, and she’s not coming back.” The words spilled and dropped like shattered glass. “And, uh, it’s just like, that’s fucked up. Isn’t it? Please, it’s - well, I wish I knew, God damn it. Motherfucker!” You swore louder than you should have, not recognizing your own voice. A feeling that had no name gripped your heart. This was it. You were giving up. “Totally fucked up. And you go and make me do stupid shit? What kind of test is that?” 

Only silence answered. You wondered how you should feel. As angry as you were, it felt strange to voice it. Finally, saying the words brought unusual comfort, and it was too easy to admit everything now. “Yeah, yeah. You should really apologize, God. Lord. Jesus. Whatever.” 

“I’m sorry.” The voice that spoke back did not belong to you. Echoing off the walls and the stained glass, it sent a jolt up your spine, causing you to spin in its direction. Leaning against a doorframe was Father Sylus, looking down at the floor, that shameful expression resurfacing on his face. You witnessed the repentant facade as he lifted his head and looked at you. 

It felt like a flood rushed through you, coursing, washing away the anger, seeping into every cell, and filling you with something new. Warm and soft, somehow breaking you apart as it passed. Something indecipherable but true. 

Something almost wonderful and exhilarating. 

He looked like something you could draw. That raw, exposed sort of aura. 

That same warmth enveloped your heart, the comfort expanding across your chest. There was something profound and affectionate within his gaze and the sense that you had underestimated what was truly meant by the phrase ‘care and concern.’

It could have been a few seconds. Or minutes passed as you stood rooted to the spot. The beating of your heart seemed to echo in your ears. Blood pulsed through your veins, the silence around you growing louder. 

“For what?” You were almost afraid to speak up. 

“For whatever you’re feeling,” Father Sylus stated plainly. Then he straightened, and his look shifted, and for a split second, he stepped forward, only to pause with his fingers twitching at his sides. Maybe there was confusion flickering in his gaze. Or longing. But he still didn’t move from where he stood, as if unable to break the tension he had with himself. After a time, he studied your face and added, “For everything and for nothing.” 

After a moment of thought, you shook your head. “That’s vague.” 

“It’s all I’ve got.” Father Sylus ran a hand behind his neck, almost nervously, eyes shifting and gaze searching. Another pause lingered between you, and you blinked a few times. He opened and closed his mouth, finally settling on placing both his hands on his hips, inclining his head to look at the stained glass windows. “That…and guilt.” 

His admission seemed weighted, and his voice was heavy. You watched him take a step forward, then hesitate. 

In that second, there was a great leap in understanding. You understood that he would not look directly at you because it would break this sacred reverence between you and whatever else was going on within his mind. 

Maybe it’d always been a game, and perhaps you knew deep down that this would be his next move. The inevitable, silent communication. Slowly, you folded your shaky arms over your chest. The look that flashed in his eyes made you shudder. With a new boldness, you swallowed and whispered: “Why are you telling me this?” 

Exhaling hard, you weren’t sure whether to scream, laugh, or cry as you awaited your answer.

He swallowed, his dark gaze teeming like a fire in the low light, the red burning. His lip curled. “Because I feel like you can understand it. Why I feel this way.” 

A sick urge, sharp and needy, had you crossing the space between you, the air shaking and trembling as he finally took another stride forward. Your eyes traced over his face. Deep and pained and beautiful. His chest heaved. A strange, bittersweet satisfaction filled you. 

“I - I can’t stop thinking about -” you broke off, words quivering as you spoke. “Us. The other night - it keeps going through my head, what I said, and -” your voice was breaking again, the achy, miserable desperation settling in. 

You could tell he was holding his breath, hands now clenched into fists, gaze searching and uncertain. “I didn’t mean to deceive you.” The words hung heavy as he stepped closer, finally closing the distance between you, tilting your chin, and forcing you to look at him. The grip held you firmly, though his eyes remained gentle and pleading. “I want nothing more than to pray - beg for your forgiveness. Try and restore whatever trust I’ve betrayed - but in all truth, God, I -” 

Another thick swallow, and he paused, the corner of his mouth twisting. He squeezed your chin lightly as if in search of some answer. Then his hand fell to his side, his head turning to look at the cross behind the altar. Something burned beneath your ribs. 

“What is it?” You whispered, trembling with the effort of not spilling all your unresolved thoughts. “Tell me - tell me something, anything, or - or -” You stopped yourself, feeling a little pathetic at not being able to formulate the proper words. 

“My path was never exactly clear, but,” Father Sylus swallowed thickly, sounding more scared than ever. “Someone I loved when I was younger - she -” A long sigh escaped his lips. “We were each other's firsts and…We loved each other very much.” He exhaled again. His face creased into sadness, reminiscent and haunting. A sharp pain, almost. One that lingered from emotions held within. The truth was there, plain as day, naked, heartbroken, and fragile. “She died when she was eighteen.” 

Pain squeezed at you mercilessly, tight and almost bone-crunching. You stepped closer, your brain slowly putting it all together, realization hitting. Then your bottom lip trembles as you reach out, taking hold of his hand and squeezing it. “I’m sorry,” you manage to say after a moment, “that must have been -” Another pause, trying to settle your lungs into a steadier breathing pattern. 

He squeezed your hand, looking at you, catching your gaze and holding it, unwavering. “I went to her funeral in a church far bigger than this one with twice the congregation. And later that day, when they put her down into the ground, I listened to the Monsignor pray over her soul.” He looked away again, this time up at the beams in the ceiling. “And I really listened to what he was saying for the first time. And I don’t know why, I just suddenly felt…” He trailed off, and you moved your hand further up his arm, willing him to continue by pressing your fingertips gently into his forearm. 

He smiled at the ceiling, faint and apologetic. “I felt at peace. Everything clicked into place. As stupid as that sounds. It was like something I couldn’t understand but needed. And, well,” he shrugged. 

“At last, it finally made sense to me,” he muttered. “The power God holds over us was always right there.” Then he turned to face you, his fingers reaching and resting on your cheek, tracing the soft skin of your jaw. “And now, I stand before you - finding these feelings again, the first true connection I’ve felt in years. I don’t mean to doubt anything…but I don’t know how to...” 

He let his voice drift off before tucking your hair behind your ear, movements tender. You wondered what he could see in your expression. 

“How did she die?” You asked quietly as if the question would destroy something in the air, but you needed to ask it anyway. 

The corners of his mouth trembled as he stroked his thumb along your jawline, offering you a small, grim smile. “She was mad at something, drank herself sick. Decided a joy ride on a motorcycle might be a good idea,” he turned his gaze to the ceiling again, and it finally hit you that he kept doing that as a trick to keep himself from crying. “She lost control and swerved, hit a wall head-on. Died on impact. Stupid girl with the dumbest ideas. She used to talk about seeing if the world curved or if the stars continued forever. She was funny and smart - but not as smart as she should have been. Her blood alcohol level came back three times the legal limit.” 

“That’s horrible,” you breathed. The puzzle pieces were assembled together. A crash. Drunk. How similar it was to your mother. Only your mother hadn’t met death head-on. It was still one of those things that made you wonder; which would have been worse? The chance was so similar yet unique. Still, as Father Sylus spoke about it, you swore you felt the faint sorrow he must still carry within himself.

“Sylus, I’m -” 

“Don’t be sorry.” He said, finally regaining a certain poise about his face, somehow managing to look warm even at this moment, smiling very softly. 

At his words, you realized you were breathing harder than before, and it didn’t go unnoticed as he scanned your face. You didn’t know what was wrong with you; you felt an emotion you could no longer explain. He had experienced loss, same as you, just not in the same way. 

Father Sylus let out a dry snort. “It’s not a happy memory, but something good comes from pain. Distrust to trust. Fear to courage. Hatred to love. To an extent, those things make you understand and appreciate everything.” 

You nodded, unable to stop yourself from wrapping your arms around his middle, convincing yourself you would forget how to breathe if you didn’t. You embraced him because it felt like the right thing to do, the smoothness of his shirt beneath your fingertips. His hand ran up along your side until it rested on your neck's base, soft, gentle, and warm. He exhaled a little before resting his chin on the top of your head. 

As he held you, you realized that this was what you had wanted. This was what you had really been aching for. Everything shifted again, changing, rushing with a tangle of nerves and dizziness. Nothing else would settle more easily than being cradled right there, where you could breathe him in. 

“Hey, do you -” He leaned back, both hands cupping your face, tilting it to meet his own. It took him a moment to formulate his question. “I shouldn’t ask, but - do you still want me?” 

Of course you did. More than anything. 

But even then, you should have stepped away. Should have walked out without another word, back to whatever fucking regular life you thought you had. But with whatever strength you had left, you pushed everything aside and quietly said, “Yes.” 

He had pressed you against the wooden door of the office, pinning you in place after dragging you in there and shutting the door. Not that you really had any intention of going anywhere. Not with his lips moving against yours, the desperation sending sparks along your skin.  His tongue darted out, parting your lips and moving into your mouth. Hungry and forceful and tasting every inch.

“You know,” he said as he pulled back, taking a second to breathe, “It’s so hard to be good when you’re so…” He trailed off, leaving you to only imagine what he would say. 

No, you had no words or any logical thoughts, really. Perhaps this was the closest thing to heaven you’d ever feel, surely. And Father Sylus ran his hands down your sides, slow and possessive, grabbing fistfuls of your sweater and bunching it up. Heat began spreading throughout your body as his fingertips crept underneath and stoked along the sensitive skin. 

“Will you let me in?” He mumbled, his lips now on the underside of your jaw as his palms spanned across your stomach as if trying to map out every inch of exposed skin. The blood pounded in your veins, pulsing in rhythm with your heartbeat.

“If this is what it feels like to be tempted,” you mused, gasping as he sucked on the skin above your collarbone, gripping the front of his shirt. “I have already failed. Miserably.” 

Letting out a hot breath that sounded an awful lot like laughter, he pulled away, a smile stretching across his lips, amused. “I suppose you really have,” he chuckled. His hands gripped your hips and spun you around so you were against his desk. Then he ducked down to press more kisses along your throat. The shivers returned as he lifted your sweater over your head, tossing it aside with another wicked grin. And for the first time, you noticed the hint of a dimple in the corner of his mouth. 

After a moment, Father Sylus fumbled with the buttons of his shirt until that, too, was discarded, skin suddenly bare. The sight made you stop, observing for a moment. For the first time, your fingers reached out and touched the skin of his chest, moving over the muscles and across his stomach. You marveled at the way he flinched slightly, inhaling sharply at your touch. 

Everything felt…hot, heavy, and inappropriate in the best way. 

And before you knew it, his hands were running up along the bare skin of your stomach, a barely-there brush that made your breath hitch. Then his hands were behind your back, unhooking your bra as his lips found yours again, rough and fervent. As it was removed, there was not a second of delay before his hands cupped both of your breasts, squeezing and drawing his thumbs over your nipples. 

“You’re so beautiful,” his hands shifted, fingers resting along the waistband of your jeans. 

It was like every little action was becoming overwhelming, sending pulsing waves through every nerve, vein, and muscle. When he popped the button, slid the zipper, and slowly eased the jeans down, the pulsing only got stronger—dizzying with its intensity. It was challenging to focus on anything else that would make more sense. Your mind was clouded. 

“Wait,” you breathed, sitting on the desk, pulling the clip from your hair and tossing it to the floor, the waves tumbling out. His hands never left you, still roaming over every little centimeter of you they could get access to, “I -” 

It didn’t need to be said, whatever it was. Because a grin broke out across his lips. A bright, glorious grin as Father Sylus pressed another harsh kiss to your lips like he could swallow the words down.

Stepping closer, he maneuvered you onto your back, your legs dangling over the edge of the desk. The smooth, cool wood pressed against the length of your spine and shoulders as you heard something that sounded like a book fall somewhere behind you. He gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, blunt nails digging in. Breath hitching, your heart thumped at the roughness and passion of his movements. Something animalistic and unrestrained lay just beneath the surface, waiting, ready. 

“Let me,” he urged quietly, fingers winding over the lace underwear, dragging them down the length of your legs. Fingers stroked up again, curling and caressing your inner thighs, one hand finally reaching the place where you were already desperate, soaking wet, and aching to be touched. Without hesitation, a digit dipped, sliding along your slick folds and slipping in easily. The motion made you bite down on your tongue as his other hand ran along the underside of your knee, urging your leg up and apart. 

You felt the pad of his thumb gliding over the little bundle of nerves, back and forth in a way that made you groan. 

“You are,” his voice was low, almost a growl, and his teasing continued. “So gorgeous, laying there. I can’t stop looking at you.” One finger became two. Slick and hot as they moved into you, each stroke moving deeper. All too suddenly, his lips were crashing down against yours, kissing you hard and desperately as if set on devouring you whole. 

The only thing keeping you stable was grabbing his shoulder and his upper arm. The sudden rise of pressure rushed around you. His thumb slipped, pressing down a bit more on your clit, drawing another gasp from you, a sound that filled the room. Then he pulled his hand away, an invisible weight settling when the digits were gone, leaving you empty and still aching for more. 

“I’m on birth control,” you managed, eyes blinking rapidly as you processed that this, in fact, was actually about to happen. The fullness beneath your belly was spooling tighter, coiling. 

It was only a few seconds; that’s all it took for him to undo his belt buckle, his length freed. Straining, leaking, begging to be inside you. The size of it makes you swallow a certain anxious lump in your throat. 

“Please.” The word spilled out before you could stop it. The coil inside you grew more and more tense and throbbing. You needed it now; the consequences didn’t matter, nor did the guilt or shame. “Please.”

His breathing hitched as if a long controlled flame within had been ignited. One of his hands rested on your hip, the other hooking under your opposite knee, parting you further and steadying himself. The tip of his cock pressed at your center. You didn’t have any time to prepare because, at that very moment, he was pushing further, sliding into you inch by inch. 

The heat and fullness and pleasure coursed, trembling through you. 

“Sweetheart,” he breathed, face buried in the crook of your neck, but you could hear the grin in his tone, the soft desperation in his voice. “You, you -” but his breath choked off as he pushed all the way inside, the moan that ripped through him cracked and hoarse. 

It took you a moment to feel him fully, gasping for air and dazed beyond what was really necessary. Holding tight, you wrapped an arm around his neck, exhaling hard. The room became a haze around the two of you, the entire moment almost suspended, paused, put on hold. 

When he moved his hips again, you whimpered as he hit somewhere deep, and your pleasure spiked. 

“Fuck,” he whispered against your skin, raising himself just enough to look at you, eyes glinting with a certain fervor. A little dark, a little feral, something wildly possessive and hungry and yearning all at once. “Oh, fuck,” he hissed, gritting his teeth and closing his eyes. Another jolt shot through you. Another strong thrust, this one harder than the last, followed by another. And another. It took a minute for him to set a rhythm, but when he did - you were sure the air was being pushed from your lungs each time. 

You couldn’t do anything but hang on. His mouth met yours in a sloppy, forceful kiss. Gasping and shuddering, you tried not to shout at the next jolt. The constant grind fills you every time. Deeper and sharper. The steady, thrumming pleasure. Intense and focused, as if Father Sylus were on a mission. Searching for something. Finding each sweet spot with whatever desperate greed drove him. Like now that he’d had the taste of something forbidden, he wanted the best of it - anything you could offer. 

He shifted slightly, and before you knew it, he hooked your leg over his shoulder, the deep angle making you arch from the desk. 

One hand tangled in his hair, the other on his shoulder, gripping hard and pulling him closer, trying to keep him buried deep inside of you. The friction built, the pace driving forward and drawing the pressure up, leaving you malleable and aching for release. But somehow, wanting it to last as long as possible. 

When the pleasure spooled tighter and tighter, every breath came short, coming fast and shorter. Until finally with one long, breathy whimper of an exhale, release washed over you, crashing like a wave. His name slipped out of your mouth, some deep, instinctual part of your brain keeping you present enough to utter it, still pulsing around him, shaking. 

And that brought him there, a little broken sound falling from his lips. Hips snapping, driving just the slightest bit further until he groaned into the side of your neck, spilling inside you. After a moment, the stillness settled between the two of you, heavy and thick. There was no actual sound other than ragged breathing. 

You stared at the ceiling, trembling and a bit boneless, wholly dumbfounded and satisfied. Then, with every ounce of energy left, you sat up, placing a hand on his chest.

“You okay?” 

A rush flooded through you at his question, and you struggled to make sense - to be logical and reasonable. 

“Yeah,” you said quickly, “I just. I…” What was the right wording? You trailed off, eyes focused somewhere beyond him. Struggling, you kept your eyes away. How could you possibly articulate the warmth that had settled over you, the lift in your confusion that had been gnawing at you until this moment? How could you explain feelings that make no real sense? 

“I feel at peace.” A near whisper because your words made it tangible, whatever it was. And really, you did feel lighter. It was as if something weighing on your shoulders had lifted in a way that wasn’t just because of the act that had been performed. 

“Really?” A sharp inhale of his breath. 

You nodded, reaching out to hold his face and running your thumbs along his cheekbones. Father Sylus slowly returned the nod, a tentative but wonderful, hopeful smile quirking up his lips—something bright and genuine, untouched by bitterness or remorse.

Serenity had sunken in with a comforting familiarity. Settling inside, like the feeling of returning home. Like the truth had opened its door. Acceptance and serenity. Understanding. Clarity, even. The knowledge you weren’t as broken or faulty as you thought. 

A moment passed, no words spoken. Then, still breathless and maybe a bit disbelieving, Father Sylus reached out and traced a cross on your brow with his thumb. 

“Did you just -” You blinked, a bit indignant as you huffed. “Did you just…bless me?”

He looked a bit sheepish, hands resting on your shoulders, thumbs rubbing gentle circles along your collarbone. “Guess I did.” With a slight chuckle, he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on your forehead. 

Tag list: @celestialforce, @readerxyourbabe, @babyx91

[disneyprincemuke]

the female rage * vettel reincarnate

(series masterlist) | (📂 a day in the life)

“shot,” she slurs, barely glancing at the canadian as she gestures for him to hand her a shot. her jaw is clenched and her voice is tense as she takes the shot into her hand, swallowing it all in one go. “thank you.”

lance presses his lips together, worry taking over his tipsy self. “i think you should stop drinking.”

“wrong.”

the intensity of her glare as she holds her hand out to him for another shot almost makes him cower into a far corner of the club. who would have thought that someone so small and so young has a temper?

well, when he remembers the fact that she is an oldest sister, it kind of makes sense.

oscar reappears next to him with a glass of water, his hand darting out to snatch the shot that she’s just about to drink. “mate! i told you to stop drinking!”

“and who,” she snaps her head to the australian, “fucking asked you?”

lance watches as the younger man handles her flawlessly, almost. it’s like he’s not scared of her, which is a feat in lance’s eyes. he doesn’t do well with other people’s temper.

“nobody, but i’d very much prefer that you’re not complaining about a hangover.”

she releases her grip from the shotglass. she grabs the glass of water and takes a big gulp.

“thank you,” oscar sighs. he looks at lance and shakes his head. “i’m so sorry about her. this is why we don’t take her drinking often.”

lance hisses, looking over oscar’s shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “i can imagine,” he laughs nervously as he tears his gaze away from her. “does she usually get this mad when she drinks?”

oscar shrugs, glancing over his shoulder with a soft laugh. “only sometimes. in her defense, that guy was kinda pushy.”

“understandable. but is she– oh, god.”

lance points behind oscar, prompting the younger boy to turn curiously. they’d torn their eyes away from the fuming girl for about 30 seconds at best.

“i told you to leave me alone!”

oscar can barely react before she winds her arm back, hand balled into a fist and it flies forward with vengeance. there’s a chorus of gasps and shrieks around them as a body stumbles back and the younger — and very intoxicated — girl is now tearing up from the pain shooting up her hand.

she looks down at the man now sat on the ground after she’s pushed him down. “what’s wrong with you? did nobody ever teach you that no means no? does it have to take a woman to punch you in the face for you learn your fucking lesson?”

oscar’s arm darts out in front of her body as she hurls herself forward, with all intentions to continue her rampage against the unnamed man. “yeah, that’s right! be lucky that oscar’s here to stop me from messing you up! be glad, cunt! consider yourself saved by the gods!”

“oi, shut up,” oscar warns the girl through gritted teeth as he drags her away. “i need to find logan. oh, god, how do i stop this rampage?”

“i better not see you again, bitch, or it’s over for you!”

“what happened?” sebastian pops up next to him curiously. “is she okay?”

“the question is, is the guy okay?” lance says softly with a frown. “she punched him.”

“fuck’s sake,” sebastian mutters under his breath and pushes past lance. “hey, why did you do that?”

lance has interacted with her several times before her promotion to f1 under sebastian’s wing. she’s always been very lovely, albeit sometimes a little shy, and bubbly. her temper has never been one to make an appearance often. unluckily for her, lance doesn’t do well with that.

and officially, after watching the girl deck someone’s halls in some random club in bahrain, he is now terrified of angering her at all.

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @leilanixx @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @nikfigueiredo @darleneslane @happy-nico @namgification @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @2bormaybenot @inejismywife @love4lando

[slaymybreathaway]

Batwife (Bruce Wayne x Reader)

"The Batman" 2022

Warnings: mentions of nudity

Word Count: 776

Masterlist

"The city's favourite couple are saying 'I do' this morning at Gotham Cathedral. Billionaire Bruce Wayne and Oscar Winning actress Y/n L/n made their first public appearance as a couple nearly 3 years ago at the premier of y/n's movie The Gravedigger," one reporter said.

Every news station in the city waited impatiently outside the cathedral for them to emerge. It was the event of the decade, the closest Gotham would ever get to a royal wedding.

Just then, the newlyweds emerged from the Church. Y/n was wearing a simple silk wedding dress with colourful flowers adorned on the lace sleeves that covered her arms. Bruce was looking sharp in a black suit. The handkerchief tucked neatly in his breast pocket was a bright yellow. Many fans speculate that the burst of colour was added by his new wife, the actress being famous for her making block colours fashionable again.

As soon as the doors of the Cathedral were opened, they were bombarded with flashing cameras and intrusive questions.

"Y/n, many speculate you are marrying for money," one particularly pushy reporter asked.

Bruce tried to get his new wife to ignore this statement but y/n turned around and spoke straight into his microphone. "I'm more than capable of making my own money, thank you," she said and followed her husband into the wedding car.

♡ 5 years later ♡

Y/n Wayne sat in living room watching, no studying the news. Every night she did the same, waiting for the headline she dreaded 'Masked Vigilante Found Dead'. Thankfully it hasn't happened yet.

Then, Alfred brought her a cup of coffee. "Here, I assume you won't go to sleep until Master Bruce comes home," he smiled slightly.

"Am I that readable?" she asked and took the cup "Anyways will you tell me when he does get home, please?"

Alfred agreed and y/n went back to watching the news.

An hour later, y/n was on the verge of falling asleep when Alfred came back in. "Master Bruce has arrived," he announced.

Y/n yawned. She got up, put on her robe and got in the elevator down to what her husband called the 'bat-cave' but she referred to it as the glorified basment.

When the elevator stopped y/n could see Bruce writing down the nights events.

"Dear Diary, it's Halloween today and I had to dress up like a bat. All the other kids made fun of me and stole my candy," she joked and walked over to him.

Bruce smiled "I told you not to wait around for me anymore honey," He closed his notebook and brought her face to kiss him.

She watched as he took out his camera contact lenses and placed them on the scanner.

Y/n knew that he wouldn't listen to her properly while watching the footage of tonight so she decided to mess with him.

"I went to a Halloween party tonight,"

"Mhm, that's nice honey. What did you wear?" he asked, not really caring about the answer.

"Barely anything," y/n whispered in his ear.

No reaction whatsoever came from Bruce's face, he replied with another automated answer "Great, hope you didn't get too cold,"

Y/n crossed her arms in frustration. "You should've came. To the party, I mean. If I attend another social event alone people will start to rumour your death,"

"Well, it seems like crime never ends in this city," he said, his head still stuck in the monitors.

"Yeah but marriages do," y/n mumbled.

Bruce broke out of his trance and turned to face his wife. "What?"

Y/n's expression broke into a smile. "The fact that I had to mention divorce for my husband to even make eye contact with me,"

He sighed "I'm sorry, my love. It's just, this thing," he gestures to the screen.

"Maybe I can help?" y/n asked, already knowing the answer. Bruce didn't want her involved in the whole 'Batman' thing because she worries enough about him without her knowing the amount of danger he really is in.

"C'mon, with most women, if their husband stayed out half the night and comes back with eye makeup on then he's cheating. My situation is... A little different. Just, please let me help you," she looked up at him pleadingly.

He sighed. "Alright come here," he wrapped his arms around his wife as he showed her the 'He lies still' card.

[emma23]

Headcanon y/n at a concert with Oscar Isaac characters:

————————————————————————

Steven Grant

- Steven’s both nervous and excited. He’s done his research on the band, reading up on their history and even memorizing some lyrics beforehand.

- He’s the one reminding everyone to bring earplugs ("You don’t want to damage your hearing, do you?").

- At the concert, he’s a bit overwhelmed by the noise and the crowd but can’t stop smiling whenever Y/N seems to be enjoying herself.

- “This is brilliant, innit? Look at the energy!” he says, swaying awkwardly to the beat.

Marc Spector

- Marc acts like he’s too cool for the concert but secretly enjoys it. He hangs back near the bar with his arms crossed, scanning the room like a bodyguard.

- He’s hyper-aware of the group’s safety, subtly moving people away from Y/N if the crowd gets too pushy.

- Occasionally, he catches himself nodding to the music and quickly stops when someone (probably Jake) teases him.

- “I’m not dancing—I’m just...stretching my neck,” he mutters, defensive.

Jake Lockley

- Jake is the one who drives everyone to the venue in a car that’s probably not entirely legal.

- He’s loud and hyped, yelling at random people in the crowd to "make way" for Y/N and the group.

- By the time the music starts, he’s already two beers deep and is shouting lyrics (wrong ones) at the top of his lungs.

- “This band? Not bad. But I could sing it better,” he says with a cocky grin.

Poe Dameron

- Poe is the life of the party. He’s dressed like he belongs on stage, with his leather jacket and confident swagger.

- He’s the first to start dancing and tries to drag Y/N into the action. "Come on, Y/N! We’re not here to stand around!”

- He also flirts shamelessly with everyone, including the bartender, the merch seller, and maybe even the security guard.

- “This band is almost as good as me in a cockpit,” he jokes, winking at Y/N.

Jonathan Levy

- Jonathan isn’t thrilled about the whole idea but comes along because Y/N asked.

- He’s the one awkwardly sipping a drink and checking his phone, making occasional sarcastic comments.

- “Is it just me, or do all these songs sound exactly the same?” he asks, smirking.

- Despite himself, he starts to enjoy the show when he sees Y/N laughing and having fun.

Llewyn Davis

- Llewyn is the snob of the group. He complains about the band’s lack of authenticity and makes snide remarks about the music.

- “This isn’t music; it’s noise,” he grumbles, though his foot taps along to the beat anyway.

- If there’s an acoustic set, he leans in and listens intently, muttering, “Finally, something decent.”

- He spends half the concert comparing himself to the performers and saying, “I could do better.”

Nathan Bateman

- Nathan shows up late, probably because he was busy working on some cryptic project. He doesn’t even pretend to care about the music.

- “This is all just vibrations and patterns,” he says, sipping a drink and smirking.

- He’s the one who suggests sneaking backstage, purely to see if he can. "Come on, Y/N. Live a little."

- Somehow, he gets into a heated debate with a random stranger about the physics of sound.

Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia

- Pope is chill but clearly here to keep the group in line. He’s the one who makes sure no one loses their ticket or gets kicked out.

- He enjoys the music quietly, nodding along and occasionally leaning over to ask Y/N if she’s having a good time.

- When things get rowdy, he steps in to diffuse the situation—probably pulling Jake away from an argument.

- “It’s not bad. Not my thing, but it’s fun,” he says with a shrug, flashing Y/N a small smile.

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse part 3.1

E-rated (for sexual content), accidental millionaire eddie/sex-worker steve.

On tumblr: Part one Part two or search #thefreakinthepenthouse

On AO3

3.1 Cracks in the plasterwork

Eddie was vegging out front of the TV, watching a rerun of Star Trek, when a knock sounded. Shit, shit, SHIT! He was literally naked and he’d not ordered anything on room service.

Not till later, at any rate. Eddie glanced at the clock. Only four pm.

He grabbed a bathrobe. Despite Steve’s brutal early wakeup call, Eddie had gotten more energy than in an age. Life really did feel less of a gloom-fest today.

Even if his self-loathing still throbbed like a bitch.

A voice sounded from the corridor. “Uh, Mister M… I mean, Eddie? You there?”

It was Steve! Already? Eddie threw both the doors wide. “Greetings and salutations. You’re mega-early.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Can’t stay. The main elevator guy’s off sick. I’m stuck there all day.”

Eddie was seriously cracking up. In his bellboy hat with its little strap under his chin, Steve was ridiculous levels of adorable. And fuckable. Which was all kinds of wrong.

“No sweat, Stevie.” He reined in his giggles. “I’m up for a quickie in your elevator, if that’s all that’s on offer.”

It was a joke. Steve sighed. He looked exhausted, kinda shadowy around the eyes. “I finish at eight. I’ll be here as soon as I can. Listen, I’m really sorry. I think I dropped something here last night. Can I, erm… have a peep, see if I can find it?”

“Sure.” Eddie stepped aside.

Steve rushed first into the bedroom, throwing himself flat to look under the bed. “The chambermaid’s been and gone,” said Eddie. He already felt like a total a-hole for laughing at Steve, who seemed genuinely stressed out. “Don’t think she picked anything up that wasn’t my usual trash. What did you lose?”

“Oh, nothing.” Steve hurried back across the lounge area and into the restroom. “Well, actually, it’s kind of important. It belongs to a friend… Oh, thank God.”

Eddie arrived at the restroom door in time to receive an epic view of Steve’s butt in his deadly-tight uniform pants. He was crawling to retrieve something from under the spacious clawfoot washtub. “Christ, I was going outta my mind! I keep this safe for my friend, Robin—she’s a junior sous chef, and, uh, yeah, she’d totally lose her head if it wasn’t attached. Anyway, she put it in my bag without telling me yesterday, apparently. What a flake!”

Steve shoved the cause of his anguish—which turned out to be one of those blue asthma inhalers that Eddie had seen kids use at grade school—into his back pocket. His breakneck monologue seemed a bit odd, but he was all smiles now, which made Eddie relax again too. Especially as a glint of that irresistible come-hither returned to Steve’s big brown eyes.

He’s pretending, Eddie reminded himself. He’s good. This guy’s reeeeeally good at this. Unfortunately for Eddie, Steve already backed toward the doors.

“Hey, I heard rumors there’s a plunge pool in the other restroom,” said Steve. “That true?”

“Fuck, yeah,” said Eddie. “Big enough to swim in. How about we take a dip later?” Steve responded with an Oscar-winning grin and flutter of his lashes. “Oh, wait a sec.” Eddie dived to retrieve his wallet from beside a vase of fake orchids. “Here’s your one-fifty. Plus, two hundred bucks in advance for tonight.”

“Wow. Thank you.” Steve’s voice trembled strangely as he took the cash, while Eddie found himself beaming like an idiot. Steve had knocked his hat askew crawling under the bath, and now Eddie reached out and straightened it. Steve flushed slightly, suddenly unable to meet Eddie’s eye: 

“Look, you treated me real nice yesterday, Eddie. Sorry if I come across grouchy. Or pushy. I know I can be like that. They’re brutal traits, in my line of work.”

“Not a problem,” said Eddie, not quite believing how badly he didn’t want Steve to leave. 

Steve reached the doors, lightly touched the handle and glanced back. “I mean, I’m sure I can do any weird kinks for somebody as nice as you.”

“Did I tell you I had a weird kink for fucking guys in bellboy outfits?” It wasn’t true at all, but Eddie couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, right. That’s a surefire way to experience my weird kink for punching annoying clients in the face.”

Ooookay. For some reason, Eddie grinned about that for the next hour.

The silence that followed Steve’s departure was still too much for Eddie to handle. For the first time in weeks, he put on a CD—Guns n’ Roses’ ‘You could be mine’ simmering on low volume. He picked up the phone and called Dustin.

“I’m gonna go through your notes this afternoon,” Eddie told him. “Will try and get some ideas going, but no promises. Oh, and don’t you dare call this evening. I got a date.”

Eddie’s whispering demons about the half-lie were drowned out by Dustin’s screams: “Aaaaaaaagh! That’s awesome, Eddie. Hey, how about you and your date double up with Suzie and me. There’s this cool new pizza joint on Rodeo Drive—”

“No way in hell,” said Eddie. He didn’t hang up on Dustin this time. At least, not until he’d gotten a promise from his bud to send a fresh batch of decent weed over.

…

Steve reached Eddie’s suite, slightly out of breath, at seven minutes past eight. He still wore his uniform, minus the hat. He really couldn’t risk another night rushing around dressed like a hooker.

Kline had already swiped fifty dollars off him—a ‘cancellation fee’ that he’d demanded Steve charge Eddie. If the slimy son-of-a-bitch discovered Eddie hadn’t chickened out and that Steve had taken the ‘job’ himself, Steve would be out in the gutter.

On the other hand, thanks to Eddie, Steve had been able to put in an order for his prevention meds. That would take the pressure off his rescue inhaler. He already craved that cool, fresh feeling in his lungs, as those expensive pills did their thing, opening up his airways. He’d put the rest aside to pay off a little more of last winter’s hospital debt. 

Shame about lying to Eddie earlier, but hey, who’d wanna hire an asthmatic call-boy? And last night had gone fine, so why worry now?

Eddie opened the door with a megawatt grin. Damn, Eddie was stupid levels of adorable when he smiled. “Hey.”

“Hey there.”

Fortunately, Eddie no longer wore that hideous Hugh Hefner bathrobe. Instead, he wore a pair of black silk boxers and nothing else. He slouched against the door frame, and indicated with his head that Steve should enter. Steve snapped his mouth shut before he drooled.

“The plunge pool is getting hot and steamy,” said Eddie.

“Great.” Steve stepped into the room, tugging apart his collar, stripping his shirt off. “Sorry about the uniform, I uh—”

“Gotta confess,” said Eddie, “I miss the eye-liner… Woah!”  

Steve had peeled down his pants to reveal a teeny pair of denim hotpants. He kicked his clothes across the room, rolled his shoulders back and shimmied his hips… in sync to a very faint beat.

“You’re red-hot, Baby.” Eddie moved close, slid his hands to clasp Steve’s butt, where the super-tiny shorts cut off half-way up Steve’s butt cheeks. They also cut in like cheese wire, particularly now Steve started to grind the bulge around the front of them into Eddie.

“You broke your no-music rule,” he murmured into Eddie’s ear, arms looping up around Eddie’s neck as they swayed to the unfamiliar rock song.

“My penthouse," whispered Eddie. "My rules.”

...

Part 3.2

(Likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕)

On tumblr: Part one Part two or search #thefreakinthepenthouse

On AO3 All my ST stuff on AO3

[maxlarens]

hi lilli! i’s me jayde (ham1lton)!

happy bday in advance!!! and for your event can i have a 🌎 office au with charles/lewis/oscar? up to u!! feel free to change up the prompt!! love u and ur blog <3

hihihi jayde thank you so much for this!!! ugh i love it so much i'm just gonna say a few things about each of them because i got ideas for all of them😇😇 i know u love a bit of a cringefail loser and honestly they're all a bit like that here:

charles is that coworker u have weird tension with iykwim like the guy that you KNOW if you'd met him at a bar or a party or whatever you'd be flirting up a storm and you'd probably be making out in a dark corner by the end of the night. but you're coworkers! so instead he spends too long talking to you at your desk. he asks you pointless questions just to have an excuse to talk to you. and other people def gossip about you two when you're not around. like everyone is aware that there's SOMETHING going on there. also i think he's bad at his job. sorry charles. u just scream failloser in the workplace. he ignores his inbox and every time you get a "finished" project from him you have to redo it. which is why u never hook up with him.

look lewis is definitely your boss or your manager. like he has to be. he does not give coworker vibes at all to me. he's not very middle manager to me either. so i think he's the CEO or the director or whatever. he's not in the office most of the time but when he does come in he knows everyone's names your name and he asks how your mum is going or whatever it is. like he remembers little details about you even though you'd fully expect and be fine with him to have no clue. and he's charming and nice and has you blushing and giggling even though you KNOW he's your boss. and then after he leaves you realise he didn't do ANY WORK. no meetings, no paperwork, nothing. he just came in, chatted you up, gave a speech and left before anyone could complain about anything serious.

oscar is the only coworker you have that's competent sorry charles he answers emails with haste! he completes his projects on time! he's the person you talk to when you need to bitch about the one several coworker that doesn't do their job. he brings u coffee and pastries everyday but is never pushy or weird abt anything. he's happy to be very normal friends, but if you want to initiate something then he's probably happy to do that too! he'd just be that guy who takes no shit and is good with telling overbearing managers to basically fuck off.

i'll tag u as well 💝 @ham1lton

my bday celly💝

[inchidentally]

this entire week was a LOT for Oscar and Lando clinging to each other through responsibilities but Sunday was like a masterclass in Oscar 'Let Me Take Care Of Lando' Piastri during what was sadly probably going to end up being one of Lando's darkest days

first Oscar fucking bodying the disappointment of his own race by chuckling ruefully about it in the interview next to a brooding (but at one point smiling!) Carlos. then Oscar looking at Lando's forlorn little face during the group photo...

and deciding from there on out to be Gregarious Outgoing Oscar - to pick up the remainders of their home race weekend on his very strong shoulders and see it all through on a high

like goddamn is his competence and maturity and sense of responsibility and desire to perform acts of service specifically for Lando are sexy as hELL !! starting with bearing the brunt of the post race recap so Lando doesn't have to - and watching Lando finally smile by continuing the tradition of saying "thanks Osc" is such a relief and Oscar would probably let Lando use any nickname he liked so long as it made him smile like that.

and then Lando - who'd been fighting a full on breakdown since the wrong choice of tyres right up to the group photo and working very hard to be happy for the team - sees Oscar putting in all of this effort and watching him and hovering and even doing that standing back a few paces so that Lando's home crowd can focus on Lando! and Lando knows he can do just as he likes and Oscar will allow anything! won't even do his completely fake and ultimately futile "scolding" no he's gonna give Lando whatever he wants just to make Lando smile and laugh. he's gonna 'keep him happy' :)

and Lando wants another shoey! he wants it to be Their Thing at Silverstone! and he wants Oscar's shoe and for Oscar to go first! and then Oscar gives in immediately and purrs "well since you put it like that" and Lando doesn't even fight the smile spreading across his face. then when it's his turn he wants to giggle and squirm and put his hands behind his back, ducking his head and going all cute like "but Oscah I'm too petite and fertile for a shoey" and he's loving Oscar going all pushy and pulling his pigtails, his absurd white sock treading in cold beer as he advances on Lando and not giving a damn bc Lando's dimples are out and he's being so cute and it's all for Oscar :)

and then suddenly Lando wants to project all of his frustrations into Oscar's shoe and hurtles it into the crowd and he can't quite believe he did that but!! Oscar is doubled over with laughter so Lando doubles over too and it's so wild and absurd and any other friend would steal one of Lando's shoes in retaliation and hurl it at the crowd - but not Oscar !! Oscar is exuding relief at seeing Lando this happy and Oscar never thinks of taking a second of that joy for himself and he is so happy to be the foil for Lando to act up and be wild and feel all of his feelings because it makes Lando feel !Safe! knowing that Oscar will never throw him a curve ball or do anything unexpected and whatever Lando says or does, Oscar will make it all okay by finding it hilarious or cute or he'll pretend to be exasperated and it's all the same thing really.

because Oscar doesn't care about the media! he appreciates the fans but he's not going to sacrifice any of himself for us and he certainly won't dance or perform! he doesn't care about his "image" so long as he's mostly left alone to focus on what's important to him. he doesn't give a damn about PR and he REALLY didn't care about creating a bromance or a PR package with Lando, not just bc it's not Oscar's thing but also bc Oscar had spent 8 years enjoying Lando as a driver and genuinely liking what he saw of him online. he saw a real future with McLaren - one he'd sacrificed so much to have - and he really saw a future with Lando. however their relationship was going to develop he wanted it to be solid and without any meddling for the sake of publicity. he doesn't hand over his time to just anyone and is perfectly alright being largely alone if need be! so the investments he's made with Lando are entirely a conscious choice - he wants to spend that time with him even when it's not for work or PR or social media.

Oscar both knows and cares that what is temporarily frustrating to him is utterly devastating to someone who feels things the way Lando feels things. that they're Different in so many ways but that in the same way Lando has watched Oscar closely to figure him out, Oscar has too. and Lando has gotten so incredibly comfortable with Oscar that he's let a very wide range of his emotions out around him! he's even shown his downright annoying and infuriating sides to Oscar and Oscar either smiles and allows it or smiles and pretends to be firm with him. sometimes Lando is especially annoying because it's quite fun seeing Oscar fighting down a smile and pretending to be firm with him :) they've basically turned that Sport Bible interviewer into their comedic marriage counselor.

and Lando didn't insist on the shoey for show - and as he had said after his very first one two years before, had no intention of ever doing another - but because this is their home race and now it can be Tradition! and because it was a bonding moment for them last year! and he doesn't throw Oscar's shoe bc it's a great "bit" or bc he's playing up to the crowd, it's because he's currently experiencing the most dizzying extremes of high and low all at once and we know very well that Lando has to channel a meltdown every now and then! he's genuinely surprised at himself for a moment when he so casually hurtles the poor shoe - almost unconsciously and he didn't even check to see who was watching or if Oscar saw it - and doesn't laugh until he sees Oscar laughing. and it felt SO good and cathartic to do and Oscar never complains !! Oscar wouldn't retaliate make Lando have a cold foot for the remainder of the fan stage! he even took off the other shoe and threw it himself for good measure!

and goddd do I love how you can see toward the end some kind of strategizing going on between Oscar and the members of the McLaren media team where Oscar wants Lando to throw the last hat for the cameras (edit: it was for them to do this adorable moment with a fan with the hats they signed on each other!!). but Lando is euphorically performing the crowd and thrilled at how they respond to him waving his arms - even makes sure Oscar sees him do it to see Oscar beam at him! but the prompter down by the stage monitors has been flashing "WRAP IT UP" for a long time now so Oscar spares a moment to let Lando have his fun and revel in the moment before prompting him to throw the remaining hat.

and the thing is that Oscar has been saying how much Silverstone came to mean to him after last year - when the crowd chanted his name and Lando said how Oscar should've been on the podium with him and Lando almost floated off the stage with joy when Oscar said he watched when Lando was leading! - when they were still figuring each other out and Oscar was still very quiet and mostly wanting to just get through public appearances unscathed - and yet !! in the face of Lando's joy at a home podium, Oscar had plucked up the courage to push an arm around Lando's waist and squeezed him close. a move so unexpected and momentous that Lando literally looked a little dazed by it before slinging his arm around Oscar's shoulders and somehow smiling harder than he already was.

so isn't it a nice little bookend that this year, when Lando is now utterly devastated by third place and not remotely in the mood for crowds and jubilation - he is the very flip opposite of his hopeful, ecstatic colorful self of the previous three days buildup - but!! that Oscar has grown to know him so well that he'll gladly shift gears and be more animated and outgoing, all in the same way that even the general public recognize how Oscar provides Lando words he can't think of or facts he can't remember or helps him sound out words he doesn't know - and in this instance, Oscar can see where Lando's ability to turn himself "on" for the public drops off and needs Oscar to help out.

and Oscar knows probably better than most apart from the closest members of Lando's team how Lando needs time to get over a severe disappointment. he needs to stew and spiral and recover. he'll do his best in the meantime but it's a labor. so every time Lando droops again in the hours following the race, Oscar doesn't once get tired of watching him and boosting him back up. Lando leaves the stage and you can immediately see the dejection and weariness again because it's time to get in the car with Oliver and leave. (poor Max F today posting a very telling video of golfing with Lando in the rain and Max's face saying everything about Lando's continued state of mind)

so Oscar posts Those Moments of fan stage joy - just the two of them - on every social media platform he has and lets the images of himself and Lando in the setting sun take up the top row of his instagram. and Lando replies to one of his own very few posts of the Sunday with a video of the shoey calling him "Osc" - bc it's one of Their Things. it makes them smile and if the public likes it that's fine but it only happened at first by accident and without any audience so it's still just Their Thing. just like how the shoey Lando found so yucky in 2022 is now Their Thing to do at Silverstone. just like it's Their Thing to know when the other needs the support and for the other to step up. and how the public call them "twins" but really, it's that when you watch someone close enough and you Care, you just naturally slip into patterns and you know what they're about to say!

race day at Silverstone 2024 was absolutely nothing of what Lando had hoped, and all coming after the giddiness of both media days and FP and quali with Oscar right there beside him both on the track and off it. he didn't even hold his trophy like usual in the post race because only the big gold one meant anything anymore. but he had "Osc" and Their Shoey and Oscar who takes a shower and rinses away all his frustrations and shows up for Lando in the same kit as Lando's team and smiling for Lando no matter what. it's no wonder those are the only moments Lando wants to remember <3

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.

this should be all the video sources I used in the compilation but pls let me know if I missed one and I'll add it <3

tumblr.com/eightyonefour/755376682323623936 x.com/folklando/status/1810032883865993489 x.com/safeforlando/status/1810028772634009855?s=46 instagram.com/p/C9IteqeInL2/ instagram.com/p/C9IpL8itplz/?img_index=6 instagram.com/p/C9IpZBaN-NO/ instagram.com/p/C9IxcU2tntu/ instagram.com/p/C9IlzaBoaKX/ instagram.com/p/C9IrQW9tMhc/ instagram.com/p/C9In7rvNgsQ/ instagram.com/p/C9Io-ERNwgM/ instagram.com/p/C9Iheq3NQ1d/ instagram.com/p/C9IkX-vNuUF/ instagram.com/p/C9IvhKMNTJU/

[austinslounge]

I just commented on a few post but now I had to slide in the messages and say IF my man was AUSTIN FINE ASS BUTLER and he was kissing ME the way he was kissing up on Zoe??! I’d be looking happy as a pig in shit all the time 😂 ESPECIALLY when I’m with him. I’d be all my man my man my man. They just don’t make sense, I can’t understand it.

it’s not even helpful to their image anymore, at least not his and I truly don’t think Austin needed her or anyone on his arm to begin with but that’s me personally his talent speaks for its self. Hollywood can be super pushy and if this was something set up to help both their careers I hope he never does this again he looks SO miserable w her.

GIRL!

If I was getting kissed like he kissed Zoe, or dicked down on the regular by Austin, I'd be so dickmatized by this man, and I'd have a smile on my face most of the time with him... just like Vanessa did rofl 🤣

And yes, while I can somewhat understand why Austin's team could have advised him to get into a "serious relationship" with someone before the Elvis press tour in order to take attention away from the Vanessa breakup, and to not have a playboy image after his fling and Makeout session with Lily Rose Depp caught on camera back in August of 2021, at this point in 2024, I don't think this Kaustin relationship benefits him at all. 🥴

If anything, it looks bad for his image. Tbh this Kaustin relationship is really only benefiting Kaia atp imo. Austin has worked with Quentin, Denzel, Brad, Leo, Baz, Timothée, Zendaya, Denis, Darren Arronofsky, Jeff Nichols, etc. Austin is an Oscar nominee. Austin does not need to date Kaia for clout. If anything, she needs him more than he needs her.

[lionlena]

We don’t love each other (PedroPascalxreader) angst! Part III

Summary:  You and Pedro are: friends with benefits, for many years. Your layout is simple and clear. You don't love each other. You're friends on a daily basis, you take care of each other... Sometimes you sleep together. You go on dates with other men and Pedro doesn't mind. Everything is simple until you accidentally hear Oscar say that Pedro loves you. Then you decide to tell him the truth and you ruin everything.

Warnings: angst!!! smut, mentions of sex, friends with benefits, sad, broken hearts, age difference (reader is 15 years younger than Pedro)

*

Part III

You were sitting on his lap, facing him. His lips trailed kisses down your neck as your hands roamed his back. You felt his muscles move under your hands.

"Pedro," you moaned.

He pulled away for a moment to look at you and you were lost in his brown eyes. You wanted to kiss him so much...

*

You woke up with a gasp. You wiped your face with your hand and looked to the side at the sleeping Tyler. The dreams about Pedro started coming two days after you moved in with Tyler.

You thought it would be a good idea. You've always complained about the rent in your old apartment. You also naively thought that it would make it easier for you to forget about Pedro. Nothing of that. You told yourself it was because "Pascal" name had been flooding the internet lately. Twitter, YouTube, Tumblr... All you had to do was go to Google news and of course you saw the smiling face of the man who made your heart break. That's why you almost stopped using your phone. It was causing you too much pain. You decided it was time to take care of yourself. If Pedro could move forward, so could you. You went back to your old hobby, read more books, cooked for Tyler.

Despite your efforts, your mind kept returning stubbornly to Pedro.

You knew you wouldn't be able to sleep anyway so you got up and went to the bathroom. You splashed cold water on your face and stared at your reflection.

You looked terrible. Puffy eyes, pale skin and disheveled hair. You even noticed a few gray hairs. Only two or three, but it made you realize that you were no longer a silly twenty-year-old running to college parties.

And of course, the question must have popped into your head:

What would happen if you meet Pedro for the first time, now? Now, when his fame reached the tops of the Alps.

He probably wouldn't even remember your name.

Your mind instantly recalled your first meeting.

*

You went out with your best friend for a drink, well, years later you wouldn't call her the best. While she found herself a one-night stand, you were left alone. You didn't mind. You weren't a little kid and you knew how to get back to your apartment. Unfortunately, that night you must have been stuck with two filthy dudes who didn't understand the word "no." You knew one of them from college, but it didn't matter. They were pushy and didn't want to leave you. You left the bar and they started walking with you.

"Let's go have another drink."

"No," you snapped.

"Don't be like that." One of them grabbed your arm. "Can't you be more funny?"

You tried to brush his hand off your body, but he was relentless.

"Listen you..."

Suddenly, a thin, tall, dark-haired man walked up to you.

"Honey, here you are! I've been looking everywhere for you, sorry I'm late!" The man put his arm around you and kissed your head whispering. "I'll help you."

Your unwanted suitors immediately moved away, but they were still keeping a close eye on you. So you wrapped your arms around the stranger's waist and smiled.

"Never mind. The important thing is that you're finally here."

For a few more minutes, you both walked hugging. And you felt so safe with his arm around you. It was funny. After all, he could be some kind of pervert, a serial killer... And yet, as soon as, you looked into his brown eyes, you really trusted him.

When you two were far enough away, he looked back and let you go. You stopped and finally had a chance to get a better look at him. He was really handsome. He had fine stubble on his face, a dark mustache under his nose, and his hair was adorably disheveled.

"Okay. They're gone."

You felt relief flood you.

"Thank you, I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't come."

When he smiled at you, your legs softened.

"I'm Pedro."

"Y/N."

You held out your hand to him and he shook it gently.

"Y/N, maybe I'll walk you home? This isn't the safest neighborhood."

Your name sounded like a song on his lips. You nodded.

"Unless you have other plans. Normally I wouldn't go back alone, but my friend stood me up."

"Sure. It's not a problem."

And just like that, you started talking about everything. At one point you asked:

"So, Pedro, what do you do?"

"I'm an actor."

"Oh, seriously! Where can I see you?"

"Soon, I will be appearing in the fourth season of Game of Thrones."

"No balls... Oh no! Really?! God, it's such awesome ."

Your enthusiasm clearly made him laugh.

"You're so funny."

"Oh, those two wouldn't agree with you.”

"Fuck them. Two horny assholes."

When you were standing in front of your apartment, Pedro said:

"Take my phone number and call me next time you're going to a party. I don't abandon my friends."

And it was so simple. You made friends with Pedro Pascal. Hollywood's rising star. And as they say: the rest is history.

*

You left the bathroom with a heavy heart. It was still early in the morning and you didn't want to make too much noise. You went to the guest room, where there were still several boxes of your things. You grabbed one of them with your old clothes in it. You started unpacking them and then you noticed a lace lingerie set between the sweatshirts. You remembered him perfectly. Your mind immediately flooded your head with memories.

*

It was past midnight when you rang the doorbell. You didn't mind the late hour. You knew Pedro was preparing for a new role and would be practicing late. Even if he was sleeping, he would welcome you with open arms.

After a while the door opened and you saw him. He smiled, though he looked surprised.

"Y/N. You said you had a date."

You waved your hand and walked inside without waiting for an invitation.

"He was a complete asshole. He told me from the beginning that I was too short and that I should wear taller shoes for the next date." You sat down on the couch, dropping an empty pizza wrapper off of it. "Idiot, there will be no second date."

"Hmm... Actually, he was a dick." Pedro said.

You snorted and started looking around. Pedro's living room was a bit messy. Nothing out of the ordinary, but still. Pedro himself was wearing a stained T-shirt and sweatpants.

"Is that ketchup or blood?"

"Ketchup" he muttered and sat down next to you. "I'd clean it up if you called."

You looked at him carefully. You didn't know why, but you felt something was wrong with him. You reached out your hand to him and caressed his cheek.

"Did everything's all right?"

"Yeah...  It's just one of those lazy days, you know."

"Hmm, okay." You tilted your head back. "I hate dates like this. Look at me. I'm so dressed up."

"It's true. You look like a princess in that dress."

You laughed and looked at him. You knew that twinkle in his eyes. He was hungry. Well, you wanted a little snack too. You expected your evening to end differently, and yet you were on Pedro's couch.

You sat up straight and looked at the pile of papers on the table.

"Any interesting scenes in this Kingsman?" you asked and winked at him.

You still remembered how you two rehearsed scenes for Narcos .

Pedro bit his lip and nodded.

"Actually, there's one. Funny, but... Wait, I'm going to look pathetic in this shirt when I say that."

He jumped off the couch and ran to the bedroom. You actually wanted to yell at him not to bother because you two will be undressing anyway.  After a few minutes you got impatient.

"Pedro!!!"

"One sec!"

When he reappeared, he was wearing a fitted navy blue shirt and skinny black jeans.

"Okay, it was worth the wait."

He reached out to you and pulled you to your feet. He guided you to where there was more room and placed his hands on your hips.

"Okay, so I say my line and walk towards you with my arms outstretched and you step back."

"Like I want run away?"

"Hmmm, no. Just, like you want to keep your distance."

"Ok."

Pedro took two steps back and got into his role. He looked you up and down and ran his tongue over his teeth.

“Hello,  gorgeous. I'm Jack. What's your name?" He started walking towards you and you took a step back as planned. "How would you like to ride home on a real cowboy? I got ..."

You started laughing and he looked at you reproachfully.

"Y/n."

"I'm sorry, you so hot. And I don't want to move away from you when you say it."

He shook his head and placed his hands on your waist.

"How would you like to ride home on a real cowboy? I got a six pack of cold ones on ice, and my roomie's out all night. So you can scream my name as loud as you need to, sugar!"

"Oh yes!" you moaned as you felt yourself getting wet between your legs.

After a while you were in the bedroom and he helped you take off your dress. He stared at your underwear in awe.

"That prick doesn't know what he's lost... Well, I'll take advantage."

You started to unbutton his shirt and pushed him onto the bed. You straddled him and his hands cupped your breasts. You leaned in and kissed him on the shoulder. You'd prefer his lips, but your arrangement had a few rules. One of them was: we don't kiss during sex.

Kisses on the lips were reserved for romantic relationships, and you were friends with benefits.

You felt his finger slip under your panties and strokes your clit. You moaned and started wriggle.You felt his cock start to swell. You unzipped his fly and he gasped in relief.

You slid off him to help him take off his pants and he unhooked your bra. You've done it many times. You knew each other's bodies, you knew what pleased the other person. It was the dance of your bodies in which you were specialists.

Later, when you were lying in bed together, Pedro pulled you close and hugged you tightly. You felt his chest pressing against your back. He buried his nose in your hair and sighed.

You had some weird feeling that something was wrong, but you were so sleepy. You patted his shoulder and asked sleepily:

"Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Yes, Cupcake ." He kissed you on the head. "Sleep."

When you woke up in the morning, you were alone in bed. There was a T-shirt and shorts on the mattress that Pedro had left for you, so you wouldn't have to wear a dress in the morning. You went to the bathroom, took a shower and brushed your teeth with your toothbrush. Yes, you had your toothbrush in Pedro's bathroom. It didn't seem strange to you. You stayed with him so often that it seemed natural to you.

As you walked through the living room, you noticed it was cleaned. Walking into the kitchen you smiled at Pedro and hugged him.

"Hi." He returned your hug. "Did you sleep well?"

You sat down in a chair by the kitchen island and nodded. Pedro placed a cup of coffee in front of you.

"Do you want scrambled eggs or toast?"

"Toast". You took a sip of coffee. "I'll eat and call a taxi."

Pedro immediately reacted with opposition.

"No. You're off today. Stay longer."

"Pedro, sweetie, you should be preparing for the role."

"And? You don't bother me. In fact, your presence calms me down."

You couldn't say no when he looked at you with those puppy eyes.

"Okay. But you'll drive me home tonight."

"Everything for you."

*

You snapped out of the memory and shoved your underwear to the bottom of the box. You pulled out your phone feeling the sudden urge to watch that particular Kingsman scene . It was funny maybe. Maybe a bit pathetic. But you needed it so much.

However, when you unlocked your phone, you noticed that you had a missed text message sent the previous day. From Oscar.

"Y/N. Call me. We need to meet and talk."

You froze. What could he want from you? There was a times when you two got along. But, you always felt like Oscar was keeping you on a distance. Now he suddenly wanted to talk. You guessed what was the reason. Or rather, who.

Common sense told you that you should text him back, "Fuck off."

You'll never start a normal life if you keep going back to Pedro, but... Instead, you wrote back to Oscar where and what time you could meet.

*

Are you really here or am I dreaming?

I can't tell dreams from truth

For it's been so long since

I have seen you

I can hardly remember your face anymore

When I get really lonely and the distance causes only silence

I think of you smiling

With pride in your eyes

A lover that sighs

Marketa Irglova - If You Want Me

Part I

Part II

Part IV

[keets-writing-corner]

I need to talk about RWBY's Jaune Arc

okay this is 1.6k words, immaaaaaaaa put a cut

Okay so going into RWBY back in 2019, that was great right. I was in the middle of getting my degree in creative writing I was seriously burnt out from how formulaic stories had gotten for me, and then comes along my friend being all YOU SHOULD WATCH RWBY. And I said, SURE

now my friend knows my types and she nailed who my favorite character was going to be (Oscar) and she also nailed who my other favorites would be (Ren and Qrow) and I'll admit, 90% of my investment in RWBY was ya know, my favorite boys (Don't worry I love plenty of the girls, it just happened that my top 3 ended up being guys this time around). And wow RWBY was just such a breath of fresh air for me given all the story telling stuff I was learning about in college

and specifically, now that we're like waiting for volume 10 to be greenlit, I'm surprised by how much I've grown to like Jaune

I used to not care for Jaune/find him mildly annoying in Volume 1. He was the... audience stand in, so he had to be a little dumb. He was falling into a little bit of a stereotypical pretending to be confident to impress the ladies role. But ya know, I didn't hate him. He just wasn't my favorite of team JNPR

then volume 2 comes around and he has his whole IMMA INVITE WEISS TO THE DANCE WITH ME :D and I was not about that, it was pushy, and also, I really do not care for that sort of romance in the stories I'm engaging with, and then... it didn't go that route. He realized that Pyrrha wanted to go with him, that he had been unintentionally insensitive towards her, and pursued a girl who didn't even care about him who liked someone else. And Jaune just went "alright, damage control, gonna get Weiss what she wants and gonna give Pyrrha what she deserves" and that was the first time instead of being neutral or annoyed at Jaune I thought ya know, this guy... this guy has good bean potential. I'm interested in seeing where they take him next

And then there's Volume 3. He's been training with Pyrrha, he's been more supportive as a partner, he's been TRYING to be a good leader for his team, like he's not perfect at any of those but he's TRYING and he's lost a lot of the traits that I found annoying originally. Now he's starting to full step into the supportive wholesome leader role. And then, ya know the finale happens and just... ouch. Things were looking up for White boy, and the rug wasn't just pulled out from under him, it also slapped him in the face and threw him down the stairs

Now through Volumes 4-5 Jaune was still in the "I'm pretty meh" about him territory. There were moments where I found myself deeply empathizing with him, specifically in the scenes that showed him mourning Pyrrha, especially because well... I've been there. I've lost someone I was close with when I was 17 too. Extremely different circumstances but that thing where you put on a video of them and you watch it over and over and over because you so desperately want them back, that you're reaching for wisps and smoke of what used to be them all for a brief small chance to feel their presence again. And it's just, it's never enough. No matter how many times you watch the video, no matter how many times you replay their voice talking to you, no matter how many times you listen to old messages they sent you, they are gone and nothing in the world is going to change that. It hurts. It hurts so bad

this boy is GRIEVING

but, he was being bitchy. And look, I don't blame the guy alright. Grief messes you up as a person, it brings out sides of you you didn't know you had, it prevents you from being the best version of yourself. I. GET. IT. But he was being bitchy towards Qrow(aforementioned fave, special mention to that time he slammed Oscar ANOTHER FAVE against the wall), and at the battle of Haven, he initially let his grief and anger get the better of him, and ngl I couldn't watch. (To clarify, absolutely no shade to the writers, this was GOLDEN, peek character writing and whatnot) But that is what Jaune's arc is about at the end of the day. I'm not saying the other characters aren't grieving too, they absolutely are. But Jaune's arc has a lot more focus on how grief hurts and changes a person, how it gets the better of us, and how ultimately, if we want to move forward, if we want to keep going, we cannot just fight it and resist it because it feels icky. We cannot just sit in it because we hate what happened and happiness feels fake and forever gone. We cannot pretend the grief isn't there either.

Cue Volume 6 where he was mostly backstage, but all of this comes to a culmination at Pyrrha's statue and Jaune finally gets a moment where he gets to sit with his grief. Really sit with it. In a way that isn't anger, or repression, or wishing things had been different or that Pyrrha was there. He got to sit with his grief with the reality that it was. He lost Pyrrha. And it hurt. Maybe it was senseless. Maybe he really couldn't have done anything. Maybe it really does hurt so bad. But at the end of the day, it had been Pyrrha's choice to try and do something. And for better or for worse, she tried. And the rest of his team confront him. Ren and Nora are quick to console him, and join in on the grieving. And they also confront him about his behavior in season 5, where he believed that he didn't matter so long as his friends got to live. And here are Ren and Nora telling him, buddy, you DO matter. You matter so much. You matter to us just as much as Pyrrha mattered to us. We all chose to be huntsmen, so let us grow together and honor her choice even if it hurts. We can hurt together and we can take comfort together.

And listen, up until this point, when I was watching RWBY, Jaune was not my favorite. He never had been. He was just a guy that was there going through his own arcs. But after this key moment in volume 6, suddenly I find himself enjoying seeing him whenever he was on screen

for the rest of volume 6 he slips naturally into an empathetic leader. Stealing the ships was his idea but he let everyone take the roles they were good at, he played good support, he protected his team when possible. AND THEN WE GET TO 7 AND 8 and omg

friends

this is when I started loving Jaune. Suddenly, it's like he found a balance, he found himself. He was still hurting but instead of being angry he was being compassionate. He was still goofy and fun, but he was no longer annoying being respectful of people. He was no longer blundering about on the battlefield but he was moving with purpose and with skill. This Jaune feels like an entirely different character than the Jaune we first met back in volume 1. He's fallen into a character role that I personally love. I love the empathic leaders who are a little bit goofy. I love them to pieces. I love their level-headedness, i love their compassion. I love their gentleness. But what made Jaune special is that we got to see how much he had to suffer to get there. He was doing the best he's ever been, and he was being so kind and so humble (straight up, tempted to do a time travel AU fic or something with baby jaune and leader jaune meeting each other cuz they'd be so different)

Then we reach the end of 8 and ya know

THAT happened

and of course Jaune's arc is always about grief. But what a stroke of genius, have him find his footing and then REtraumatize him. ngl, I ALSO have been there, and imo the retraumatization is almost worst than the originally one, especially if you haven't properly dealt with the OG emotions because now THOSE come rushing back AND you've got new fresh ones to deal with. Call me a sadist. Accuse me of projecting my own trauma or whatever, but genuinely I loved what they did with Jaune in volume 9. It was *chef's kiss*. The unhealthy coping, the latching onto and hyperfixating on a single thing that ultimately is the opposite of what he needed, forced to be alone for decades, betrayed by someone he tried to help, being reunited with his friends without having processed or dealt with any of that and STILL trying to be friendly and kind and gentle to them while barely keeping it together- it's just SO GOOD

and ultimately he does break. But his friends are there with him, just like Ren and Nora helped him in volume 6. He's still the gentle leader he's grown into, but now there's just so much more to it, there's so many layers

I'm genuinely so excited to see where they take him for future volumes. He still can't dethrone my favorites BUT he has climbed the ranks of my favorite characters so fast that I wouldn't have believed you if you told me when I started watching RWBY that the character I found most annoying would end up being one of my favorite RWBY characters

soooooo yeah

I really love Jaune now

controversial opinion, I love his short hair

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream: Top 100 Movies #25 - #1

100 - 76

75 - 51

50 - 26

So this right here is what I really wanted to talk about. These are the 25 movies that I hold nearest and dearest to my heart, the ones that mean the most to me, the ones that have influenced my tastes and the sort of things I like to see more than any other. Some are older films, some are pretty recent, but all of them represent what I think is the very best of their kind.

And yes, I could have just talked about these in the first place without doing all those other movies... But I'm the movie guy around here, so I felt like it would be more fun to give you a window into my taste in film. Anyway, here are the final movies:

25. Hercules

What happens when you throw Greek mythology, gospel music, the animator from The Wall, and Superman into a blender? You have Disney’s most bizarre and ambitious musical. It was a bold move taking Greek myths and sanitizing them to a mild degree(there’s no incest, rape, and infidelity but there is death and attempted infanticide!), a move that pissed off Greece for disrespecting their mythology, but come on. Lighten the fuck up. The whole point of myths and legends is to allow storytellers to embellish and alter details as they see fit for their vision. This take is no more or less valid than any other, though considering it has James Woods portraying Hades like a sleazy used car salesman trying to screw you out of your life savings, I’d say it has the edge over everything save the game Hades.

24. Clash of the Titans

As a child, this is the movie that got me into Greek mythology. It’s also the movie that got me into stop motion animation, which to this day remains one of my favorite forms of animation. And then it’s also the movie that gave me horrible nightmares, because that Medusa sequence is fucking terrifying. Ray Harryhausen delivers some of the best animation of his entire career here, and he singlehandedly propelled Medusa into the limelight; she wasn’t a household name prior to this film, but you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who hasn’t at least heard her name now. It also helped greatly alter the public perception of what a kraken is, and may have convinced people it’s a Greek creation. For a cheesy cult classic of a film, the impact this has is impressive, but even if it was just me and five other people who knew this movie existed I’d still love it all the same.

23. Dawn of the Planet of the Apes

This is essentially a Shakesperean play, but with apes. The sheer amount of drama is incredible, and the stunning work at bringing the apes to life shows that human ingenuity will achieve the best results when it comes to rendering monkeys. Caesar is a fantastic and compelling lead of course, played perfectly by Andy Serkis, the man who somehow doesn’t have an Oscar, but I think the real star of the show is the villainous Koba. Never has a chimp been so horrifically and unrepentantly evil while also being heartbreakingly tragic. He also rides a horse while dual wielding guns and then hijacks a tank. That is literally one of the most badass visuals ever put to film.

22. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 2

A lot of people view this movie as the weakest of the trilogy, and while I obviously don’t agree I can kind of see it. The first act has its moments, but I think it’s a bit too slow and repeats a few too many jokes from the first film. But as soon as Ego hits the scene, the film goes into maximum overdrive and delivers a far better and funnier experience than the first film. Ego is one of the most heinous and captivating villains in all of comic book cinema thanks to Kurt Russell, but frankly it’s former side characters turned major players Yondu and Nebula who steal the show, as both are given a lot more to do and thus a lot more depth. The latter’s relationship with Gamora is explored quite a bit more and they’re even given a reconciliation, while the former gets a strong emotional arc and redemption while also pushing the development of the trilogy’s true main character Rocket to the next level. He also gets to massacre an entire ship full of goons in one of the MCU’s most epic sequences. And as if all this isn’t enough, this movie has the single best soundtrack of the Guardians trilogy; hard not to when you have Fleetwood Mac and George Harrison on it. The only thing that’s missing is “Come and Get Your Love.”

21. Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back

I like most of the other Star Wars films; there’s maybe only two I consider outright bad, and even then one of them is more “messy and mediocre” than “awful.” But there is no way in Hell I’d ever even consider an argument that Star Wars ever got better than this. It has the battle of Hoth, the Wampa, Han hiding in the asteroid, Lando, Yoda, Han being frozen in carbonite, Boba Fett… And then capping everything off is one of the single greatest plot twists in cinematic history and a pretty dark ending for this sort of series, though one tempered by hope that the day can be saved. This is what Star Wars is all about right here, and the series has yet to ever produce anything that quite matches this in terms of sheer quality.

20. Dune: Part Two

Ok, that’s enough about the sci-fi for kids; it’s a real man’s sci-fi movie now! The first film was good and all, but I felt like it was slowly paced and a bit too heavy on exposition and worldbuilding without much excitement. This film fixes that; it keeps all of the exposition and worldbuilding, but it intersperses a lot more exciting setpieces and brings in Feyd-Rautha, who steals every scene he’s in even if he isn’t wearing those crazy space panties like when Sting played him. Of course, the real draw of the film is watching the well-meaning but vengeful Paul buy into his own hype as a means of survival and slowly descend from a decent guy in a bad situation to a villainous terrorist messiah with a god complex. The fact this movie ends on a triumph that would be the end of any other series but paints the victory with the blackest brush really has me excited for where the third chapter will go. What can I say? I’m a sucker for movies with big worms.

19. The Incredibles

Pixar had made plenty of compelling narratives about things like toys, bugs, monsters, and fish before this one, so it was only a matter of time before they tackled humans. I think there was probably a worry there, considering the humans in the original Toy Story looked really ugly and while the second one showed improvement it wasn’t all the way there yet. But making the novel decision to stylize the characters a la Team Fortress 2 proved the way to go to tell this story that’s a blend between James Bond, Watchmen, and the Fantastic Four. The characters and their struggles are relatable and grounded in reality despite their superpowers, and the movie is absolutely not afraid to get dark in ways you wouldn’t expect from an early Pixar movie, mostly courtesy of one of cinema’s greatest villains, Syndrome. Throw on top of it a Michael Giacchino score that helped launch his composing career into the sky and a hilarious minor role for director Brad Bird as the super suit designer Edna Mode, and you have what is inarguably Pixar’s best movie.

18. Pulp Fiction

I go back and forth a lot over whether this or Kill Bill are my favorite of Tarantino’s work, but I inevitably always land back on this one. Sure, the latter film is fun, violent, and action-packed, but this movie here is more quintessentially Tarantino. It has non-linear storytelling, with chapters bouncing around time to deliver a fascinating tale of criminals trying to outwit each other. It has an all-star cast of actors giving it their all, with defining performances for Samuel L. Jackson, John Travolta, Bruce Willis, Uma Thurman, and Ving Rhames among many others (plus a demented Christopher Walken cameo). It has an awesome soundtrack, it has black comedy, it has meandering conversations that reveal a lot about the personality of the speaker, it has copious use of the N-word (sometimes even straight from Tarantino’s own mouth), and of course it has plenty of shots of women’s feet. This is Tarantino in his purest form, and it still holds up as one of the greatest masterpieces of the 90s.

17. Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga

I didn’t know if I’d be thrown into the same sort of blissful ecstasy that Hideo Kojima was while watching this, but let me tell you that this was such a fucking amazing movie I just had to rewatch Fury Road right after. As far as origin stories go, it is genuinely hard to get better than this, which not only showcases Furiosa’s backstory and her rise to her position as seen in Fury Road, it also showcases a younger Immortan Joe and the depths of his evil as we see he once had a son named Scrotus. Who the fuck names their kid that besides the most depraved villain imaginable? But quite frankly the real star of this show is Chris Hemsworth as Dementus, a villain who is as stupid and pitiful as he is depraved and cunning. It is absolutely astounding seeing him act his balls off after watching him sleepwalk through mediocre Thor and Ghostbuster movies. If you ever thought he might not actually be that good of an actor, you need to sit your ass down and watch this movie.

16. Deadpool & Wolverine

I think it is extremely easy to pick this apart when you take this film at face value, because on the surface the narrative is kind of flimsy and the emotional core just isn’t there. Like, why should we give a shit about this brand new Wolverine’s plight, moping over the deaths of a version of the X-Men we’ve never seen? But this isn’t a movie we should be taking literally; this movie is a metaphor for a lot of things, from the very nature of the Fox Marvel films and their messy and convoluted timelines to the literal idea of Wolverine as a cash cow box office draw. But most importantly, this is a superhero movie that is a love letter to unloved superhero films, a heartfelt sendoff telling them that even if they weren’t great, they had maximum effort put into them. Think of all the crossover characters and how they’re from failed franchises or unmade projects; no one was clamoring to see Elektra, and hardly anyone would know Channing Tatum was ever meant to play Gambit. But these characters are implemented in such a way where it’s clear that whatever audiences thought, Reynolds certainly saw some value in them. As someone who loves watching dogshit movies and seeing if they’re really that bad, this plot definitely speaks to me. As a straight Deadpool film this doesn’t work, but as a fond farewell to Fox’s time making Marvel movies and an entry point for Deadpool to join the MCU, this is one hell of a great film. You will come out of it wanting Cassandra Nova to stick her fingers in your brain, though. Fair warning.

15. Poor Things

If Barbie is the film equivalent of an “intro to feminism” course, this is the advanced placement course. This is an impressive allegory about the objectification of women and how they seek agency in a society that so desperately wants to force them to be something whether they like it or not. Emma Stone gives an absolutely insane performance, and it’s genuinely hard to deny she actually deserved the Oscar after seeing how mind-bogglingly demanding this role must have been. Mark Ruffalo, too, shows off his long-dormant acting chops, flexing his comedic muscles after being stuck as a supporting CGI giant in Avengers movies with zero hope of a solo film. The colors, the dialogue, the score, it all comes together to make one of the most striking films in recent memory.

14. The Thing

John Carpenter made one of the few movies I have ever had to look away from on my first viewing, sitting alongside Breaking Dawn – Part 1 and Cannibal Holocaust in that illustrious category. The effects here are beautifully gruesome, with some of the most delightfully monstrous bits of body horror you could ever hope to see. The plot is fantastic, with the paranoia and fear that breaks down even these toughest of men being something that leads to a lot of applicability (it’s easy to read this movie as a metaphor for the AIDS crisis, for instance). And best of all this film features amazing performances from Kurt Russell and Keith David, some of the best of careers that are stacked high with amazing roles. Carpenter had a pretty flawless run of films in the 80s, but this right here is his magnum opus.

13. A Clockwork Orange

I love films that are character studies of horribly repugnant individuals, and there are few better films of that sort than Kubrick’s crowning achievement. Malcolm McDowell makes Alex DeLarge into one of the most captivating monsters ever put to screen, a villain who at times exudes an almost human warmness before committing a depraved crime and slipping back into psychotic coldness, sometimes complete with a chilling Kubrick stare. I think my only real issue with this film is that it just sort of ends without any clear resolution, something the novel actually gave, but considering I found that book unreadable I can live with it.

12. American Psycho

A Clockwork Orange is fantastic, but Alex can be a bit too charismatic for his own good. I like a character study of an awful person who is just a complete void of personality, a wretched, miserable, evil person who is also utterly vapid and hollow by design… and boy howdy is Patrick Bateman the guy to scratch that itch! Christian Bale gives easily the best performance of his career, and keep in mind this is a guy who refuses to not act his pussy off in every film he stars in. His Bateman has that surface level sheen of charm and charisma that only barely masks the fact he is nothing but a soulless husk of a human being who revels in killing/fantasizing about killing to fill the empty void of his life since he’s an overly-privileged yuppie piece of shit, The fact that they even managed to take an astoundingly unfilmable novel and translate it so well to screen is astounding, and they even kept in all of Patrick’s rambling music monologues! And if nothing else, this film does do one of my absolute favorite things a movie can do: Show Jared Leto getting brutalized.

11. The Suicide Squad

DC’s movies generally sucked, and Suicide Squad is generally seen as a failure. With these two facts in mind, it was easy to be apprehensive about the at-the-time disgraced former Marvel director James Gunn’s try at taking a bunch of D-list villains and sending them on a suicide mission. But unlike Ayer, Gunn understood the assignment, and delivered his trademark superhero found family goodness with all the cathartic freedom an R-rating could give a Troma alumni. There’s blood, gore, and swearing, but there’s also a ton of heart (and not just the one Peacemaker stabs). John Cena gives the best performance of his career and one who would continue to improve upon in his spin-off, and for once Sylvester Stallone nails comedy as the dopey juggernaut King Shark. It’s a movie wholly unafraid to embrace the silliest aspects of comics (giant alien starfish, villains who control rats, Polka Dot Man) while also engaging with mature and serious themes while using said aspects. And after her previous ensemble outing with the Birds of Prey, it’s nice to see Harley truly back in her groove and getting to live out a Lollipop Chainsaw level.

10. Drive

Ryan Gosling cemented himself as a star in my mind with this movie. A pitch perfect neo-noir with a godly soundtrack, excellent atmosphere, and gripping plot, this might be my favorite movie that I just can’t bring myself to ramble about; like Ryan Gosling in the movie, I just have so little to say. I guess maybe he is literally me after all!

9. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3

It’s kind of impressive how this movie pulls the rug out from under you and reveals this whole time, the trilogy has been about Rocket. It all makes sense in hindsight, of course; he has one of the clearest arcs of any of the Guardians and probably the most bombastic personality of the group after all. But the places this movie goes to show why he is the way he is… man. This one has some of the most crushingly sad scenes in any superhero movie even if you know they’re coming, and also one of the few cool action scenes in any Marvel movie. It also has the most nasty villain imaginable in the High Evolutionary, who despite being wholly evil with motives that aren’t too complex manages to be entertaining and engaging. The soundtrack is good (not as good as the last one, though) and the comedy is solid, and the way this movie ends leaves it so that even if we never see any of these characters again, we know they all got a satisfying sendoff. Isn’t it nice, when things end and we get some level of closure?

8. The Nightmare Before Christmas

Henry Selick worked miracles translating Tim Burton’s macabre holiday mashup fairy tale into glorious stop motion animation. It’s a film that really is greater than the sum of its parts; the story is relatively simple, the message is pretty heavy-handed, and the villain is in two or three scenes and barely effects the plot. But it’s all so visually interesting, all the performances are stellar, and all the songs are so damn good that it’s incredibly easy not to care and just get sucked into the weird and spooky world of Halloweentown. Every Halloween and every Christmas I would get my parents to rent this from Blockbuster, and I would watch it over and over… I loved it from the first time I watched it. And imagine my joy when, the first time I sat my daughter down to watch it so she’d quiet down and relax, she had her eyes glued to the screen in awe. Like father, like daughter. Love of this film is hereditary.

7. The Silence of the Lambs

This is the greatest thriller ever made in my eyes; as far as murder mystery stories go, nothing even comes close. The plot, the setup, the mystery, the killer are all so well done, and Jodie Foster really sells her role as a young woman struggling to be taken seriously in her field while also having a steely resolve that keeps her from coming off as a helpless damsel. But it is Sir Anthony Hopkins with his limited screentime as Hannibal Lecter who truly steals the show, portraying a villain who is cunning, classy, and creepy all at once. His nightmarish jail break is something else entirely. Of course, everyone heaps lavish praise on Hopkins, so I’m going to highlight Ted Levine as the deranged Jame “Buffalo Bill” Gumb. While his depiction may come across as a bit problematic in some areas due to omission of a lot of context from the novels, he still manages to be incredibly eerie and fascinating. Hard to hate the guy who introduced me to “Goodbye Horses.”

6. Evil Dead II

The first film was a straight-up horror movie, and Army of Darkness was a wacky fantasy action comedy. In between those two came this, a perfect blend of both horror and comedy and a true showcase of Sam Raimi’s directing skills. Impressively, it manages to outdo its predecessor in horror and its successor in terms of laughs, truly managing to be the best of both worlds with its surreal black comedy that hearkens back to movies like House. Bruce Campbell is truly at the top of his game here as well, with the iconic Ash we saw in Army of Darkness fully formed after his experience in this film. Truly a film that earns the right to call itself… Groovy.

5. The Princess Bride

This is my mom’s favorite movie, so I got to watch it a lot growing up; it should come as no surprise it also ended up as one of my favorites. It’s hard to think of a single film with a better script than this one; almost every line of dialogue is iconic, and all of them are delivered perfectly by one of the most impressive casts imaginable. Before we had Bautista and Cena, we had Andre the Giant in a wrestler-turned-actor role giving his all and making Fezzik one of the most lovable characters in fiction. But it’s hard to really single him out when literally everyone is great—there’s not a single weak link in the whole cast. Even the framing device, the easiest part to fuck up for a film like this, has motherfucking Peter Falk as the narrator. This is one of the few films I can honestly say is about as close to perfect as a film can get.

4. The Lighthouse

Robert Eggers is probably my favorite name in modern horror, and it’s almost entirely thanks to this film right here. It combines the surreal, black-and-white dreamy horror of stuff like Eraserhead with delightfully batshit performances from Robbert Pattinson and Willem Dafoe and brings us an intimate, claustrophobic picture of two men going mad from isolation… maybe. There’s so much beautiful ambiguity here, so much to ponder even after the film is over. Is the ending meant t be taken at face value? Which of these men is actually lying? Is everything happening just mundane sea issues or is it an oceanic curse? There’s a lot of ways to think about and interpret this movie, and that’s what I love about it. Each viewing gives me more to chew on, and more for me to consider when I try and make sense of some of the bewildering things shown.

3. Mad Max: Fury Road

I don’t think there are really any action movies that are quite as thrilling as this one. Like, okay, the movie right after this one is also a thrilling action movie, but I love it for different reasons than this one. This has some of the most insane stunts and pyrotechnics around. There’s a dude with a flamethrower guitar, for crying out loud! But even that aside, there’s a pretty solid plot with a feminist slant to it, featuring a villainous character turning good and redeeming himself through viewing women as human. Tom Hardy’s take on Max is a fierce reclamation of the character from the grubby hands of the vile Mel Gibson, and he is a deeply important character even if he doesn’t talk much. That’s another great thing about this—These characters don’t always need words to communicate their ideas, sometimes their looks, their actions, and their grunts are enough to tell us all we need to know. If I have any criticism at all it’s that this film only rarely slows down—but even when it does it’s still fantastic.

2. John Wick

The sequels got bigger and crazier with their action setpieces and choreography, veering into almost fantasy levels of gun-fu and violence. And I love the second and fourth films a lot (the third is okay, but it feels like spinning the wheels a bit too much), but I still think the first film is entirely unmatched. It has a much darker atmosphere, between the lower stakes plot and the more ambiguous and mysterious nature of the world. Keanu Reeves finally shook off decades of being called a wooden actor with this, channeling his talent into either simple yet effective replies or the most snarling affirmations of bloody vengeance; his “I’m thinking I’m back” speech is short, sweet, and effective at not only establishing Wick isn’t fucking around (something we know full well but it’s nice to hear) but at showing us that Reeves himself is back in the limelight as well. This is so close to being my favorite film of all time, but there’s one movie I like more… and when you see what it is I’m sure you’ll get why this only takes home the silver.

1. The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

For the longest time, this was the installment in Peter Jackson’s fantasy epic that I was the least impressed with, preferring the more epic The Two Towers and especially The Return of the King. But upon rewatching them all after the birth of my daughter, I had the same sort of realization I did with the John Wick movies: The first movie just can’t be beat precisely because it isn’t so overbearingly epic in every regard. Oh, don’t misunderstand me, though—this movie is still epic when it needs to be. How can it not be when it has Gandalf fighting the Balrog? But it has moments where we get to see Middle Earth without constant wars and fighting. Hell, a big chunk of the first act is the hobbits chilling in the Shire before Gandalf drags them off on the mission. Literally my only issue with this movie is that there isn’t any Gollum in it aside from a cameo, but that is the most minor of nitpicks for what is easily the greatest fantasy film ever made and one that does Tolkien’s work justice.